


I made you a promise

by NoMatterTheOceans



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 57,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoMatterTheOceans/pseuds/NoMatterTheOceans
Summary: Feyre is waiting for her friends to join her, and engages in conversation with the handsome stranger beside her.





	1. Chapter 1

She was an hour early. Again.

Her and the girls were supposed to meet at 7, like they did every Wednesday night, but Feyre had gotten out of work early, and she didn't want to have to go to her tiny apartment, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to muster the energy to get out again if she did. It had been that way since she moved into the place two months ago, after a rather stormy break up with her ex-boyfriend (and would be fiance if _he_ had had a say in the matter, the very reason of their heated break-up), Tamlin. She was happy about her new found independence, although her small salary as a freelance illustrator for a publishing company didn't allow her to live in anything bigger than this tiny studio above an Indian restaurant. she couldn’t afford anything to grand. But even though she was enjoying her freedom after a year of a rather toxic relationship, she sometimes found it hard to get out of the house, and she didn't want to risk missing what precious time she had with her friends.

Anyways, now she was at the pub an hour early and would have to wait for her friends to arrive. Sighing, Feyre took in the pub and decided to sit at the bar and maybe order a drink while waiting for them. She took a seat at the very far corner, so that she could have a good view of the entrance and not miss her friends arrival. There was a man already sitting beside her, but he seemed too absorbed in his book to notice her. Sitting, she ordered a beer and called Alis quickly, but got her voicemail directly.

“Hey Alis ! I just wanted to let you know that I got to the pub early, but don't worry, I’m just waiting for you at the bar. See you at seven.” She hung up, knowing very well that there was a chance that Alis would get here later, since she had to deal with her nephews’ babysitter first. Her beer arrived, and she took a look at the clientele of the pub while enjoying her first sip. Her eyes fell on the man beside her, and she blinked. He was extremely handsome, even if she only saw his profile. He appeared to be very tall, and with short blue-black hair - the color of raven feathers, thought Feyre - that matched perfectly his tanned skin. Hints of a tattoo were visible from the rolled sleeves of his black shirt, a shirt doing very little to hide his muscular arms and chest. Feyre was still watching the little glimpse of tattoo when he talked:

“Hi.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his face, and she felt heat creep up her cheeks. He was smiling slightly at her, and even though his smile was attractive, it was his eyes that made Feyre hold her breath for a second longer. Based on his hair and skin, she had imagined his eyes to be some shade of brown. But they were a deep shade of blue, so deep they seemed to be violet, with flecks of silver that made her think of starlight. His grin intensified, and she realized that she had been staring at him and not answering for about 10 seconds. She blushed a bit more and finally talked:

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Oh that’s quite alright, I don’t mind being bothered by such a beautiful woman.”

She smiled slightly, trying to control her blush - gods, she must look like a freaking teenager with all her blushing and staring.

“That's very kind of you.”

“It’s very true. Plus, my book was becoming a little boring, so i don’t mind the distraction.” His smile was more gentle, and he seemed to be watching her as if he indeed find her to be beautiful. Feyre ruffled her hair, not really knowing what to say. Fortunately for her, he spoke again.

“I’m Rhys, by the way. Well, Rhysand, but all my friends call me Rhys.”

“Feyre.”

“Well, Feyre Darling, it’s very nice to meet you. Might I offer you a drink?”

Feyre, that had been half lost in his violet eyes, straightened her thoughts. He was handsome, yes, but she couldn’t let him buy her a drink when she very well knew it would lead them nowhere. She was far from ready to start dating again, more so after the harsh way her last relationship ended.

“Thank you but, I’m waiting for some friends and they should arrive soon.”

“I thought I heard you say 7, and it’s only 6:05. I think that gives you plenty of time to finish that beer, don’t you think?”

“Well… to be honest Rhysand, I don’t want you to buy me a drink because buying me a drink implies that you expect to gain something out of it, and I already know I won’t give you my phone number.”

“Oh. Well how about that: I guarantee you that I only want to pay for your beer because you seem like a nice woman to be talking to for the next hour. And to express my good faith, I’m going to make you a promise. I promise that I will not ask for your phone number when you’ll go join your friends, however well the next hour might go.”

She looked at him, and… damn her, he seemed so sincere that she heard herself answering:

“Alright then.”

He smiled broadly, and they stayed silenced for a few moments. Feyre realised now that she didn’t exactly know what to say to him, and the silence stretched on until:

“So anyways, what are you doing sitting alone in a pub, _reading a book_ , at 6 o'clock in the afternoon?”

He smiled, and answered : “I’m waiting for my cousin to get off work. Her office is right down the street and we’re going to dinner afterwards so I’m meeting her here. The book is just a way to keep the ladies away,” he added, grinning and raising his eyebrows suggestively “although it doesn’t seem to work as well as I thought.”

She chuckled at that.

“And what are _you_ doing here, Feyre ? Girls night out, is it?”

Not really a question, considering he heard her make plans not ten minutes ago. But she answered anyway.

“Indeed. So enjoy what little time you have with me, because the second they enter this pub, I’m out of your sight!”

He barked out a laugh and looked her in the eyes: “I’ll try to enjoy it to the fullest then.”

“So Rhys, what book are you reading anyways?”

 

***

 

They talked with ease for a long time, laughing and drinking as they shared their opinions, first about books, and then music, movies, series. Rhys had launched on a lively tirade about a series he’d just started watching when the front door of the pub opened.

“I mean, I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it, it’s great ! It has cowboys, and robots, and conspiracies,....”

“Oh Rhys, my friends just got here.”

He stopped talking and looked over his shoulder to discover three young women indeed standing near the entrance and looking for a free booth.

“Right.”

The hour spent talking easily was suddenly gone and a more awkward kind of silence settled between them, as Feyre got up and grabbed her coat to move to the booth and her friends. He was watching with a sort of longing in his eyes, as if he was missing her already. She spoke quietly:

“Thank you for the drink, I had a lovely time.”

“Me too, thank you for the company” he answered in an equally quiet voice. She stood there for a few more seconds, not yet ready to let him go. His eyes on her were so intense, she couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I’m very much regretting my promise to you about not asking your phone number.”

her throat bobbed as she looked into his violet eyes one last time.

“Have a good evening Rhys.”

“Likewise, Feyre Darling.”

She turned around to her awaiting friends and forced herself not to look behind, even though she could feel his eyes following her as she crossed the pub.

“Hey Feyre, there you are!” Alis smiled at her from the booth, and Feyre smiled back, happy to see them.

 

***

 

Rhys was trying to keep reading his book while waiting for Mor - gods she was late, but it shouldn’t really surprise him, she was probably changing to be “presentable” at the restaurant, even though he was sure she was just fine in her current clothes. He couldn’t concentrate on his book though, not when his seat offered him a direct view of the booth were Feyre was seated, talking and laughing with her friends.

Feyre. When he had felt her eyes on him earlier, he’d started smiling to himself, ready to act all confident and smart to impress the woman ogling him. But when he turned to face her and ask if she saw anything she liked upon his bare forearms, he’d been stunned into silence for a few seconds. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, with her golden brown hair falling over her shoulders in light curls, her pale face covered in freckles, and exquisite blue-grey eyes that seemed to pierce through him easily. And instead of his flirty, cocky opening line, all he’d found himself saying was “Hi.”

But the hour that followed had flown by as they talked about many different subjects. She was passionate about the things she liked, and it was such a delight debating with her, that he’d forgotten about her friends coming to join her until she had stopped him mid-sentence and had gotten up to join them.

It had been half an hour since then and he was still debating throwing his promise down the drain and go ask her for her phone number, when his own phone rang:

“Rhys I have a cab in front of the pub, are you coming?”

“Hey Mor, yeah I’ll be right there.”

He went to the bathroom first, then grabbed his jacket to head outside, not without throwing one last disappointed looking to the woman seated with her friends, her back to him. He got out and embraced the chilly wind of the October weather, and greated Mor. As he reached into his pocket to find change for the cab, he felt a piece of paper tucked in there.

It wasn’t a piece of paper, but a napkin from the pub. And on the napkin, was written in black ink:

 

_I was also regretting your promise_

_091-585-340_


	2. Chapter 2

“Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

Rhys’ eyes shot up to meet his cousin’s across the table, watching him intensely from behind her menu, with a look he could only describe as annoyed. He couldn’t exactly blame her, though. Since he’d found Feyre’s number in his pocket earlier, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and had grinned rather stupidly during the cab drive. Mor had obviously noticed, and he had the feeling she wouldn’t let it go easily.

“I’m not smiling like an idiot.”

“Oh _please_ , you barely listened to me when I was talking to you about Keir’s attitude during the board meeting today, and you didn’t pester me to chose my food faster, which is something you always do. What’s going on?”

“I would have thought me leaving you some time to think about the menu would be something to enjoy, my dear cousin.” Yes, he was avoiding her question in a rather obvious way, and she immediately picked up on it:

“You want to play it like that? Alright, I’ll have the poached salmon and a salad. Now tell me what’s gotten into you.”

He sighed. There was no getting out of this.

“Nothing, it’s just… I met someone.”

She laid down her menu and leaned closer to him the second the words left his mouth.

“Someone as in… _someone_?”

“Well, she _is_ a human being, so yes, I met someone, Mor. Can we drop it now?”

“Oh we most certainly can’t! Who is she? Where did you meet her? When are you seeing her again? I’m going to need to meet her soon. Is she beautiful? Of course she is, you wouldn’t be smiling like that if she wasn’t. What does she look like?”

The questions were coming out of her so fast Rhys couldn’t help himself and laughed loud enough to earn a frown from one of the waiters. But the laughter seemed to stop her frenzy for informations.

“Mor, you’re crazy, you know that? She’s just… a woman. I met her at the pub while I was waiting for you and we ended up talking for about an hour before we got interrupted. And that’s it.”

“What do you mean _that’s it_? What’s her name? What does she look like? When are you seeing her again?”

“You’re exhausting. Her name is Feyre, she’s an illustrator. And she’s… I don't know, she’s beautiful.” He couldn’t find another word to describe her, she wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t cute, she was just plain _beautiful_ . Recalling her piercing blue-grey eyes looking at him, he continued, “I don’t know when I’ll see her again, I don’t even know _if_ I’ll see her again, so there’s no need for you to start planning what you would wear at our wedding, alright? Can we just order please?”

She laughed at his last remark, and he knew she had let it go - for now - when she picked up the wine menu.

 

***

 

Rhys waited until he was home to take the napkin out of his pocket and save Feyre’s number on his phone. Since he’d spotted it hours earlier, he’d been thinking almost exclusively about the napkin, it felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket and reaching into his very core. Now that her number was safely on his contact list, he stared at the screen for a while, wondering if it would seem too eager to text her right away. He left his jacket in the hall of his townhouse, went into the spacious kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, and sank into the sofa of the living room, still debating what his next move should be. He turned on the TV and put on the newest episode of the show he was currently watching, but found himself unable to pay attention to the plot. He had been talking about that very show when her friends had interrupted them. After ten minutes of switching his eyes between the TV and his phone, he finally gave up and picked up the latest.

 

_23:34 - That was a very nice surprise you slipped into my pocket, Feyre darling._

 

He was regretting his text the second it left. He’d called her Darling at the pub, but maybe she didn’t feel it was appropriate when he wrote it… He should’ve sent something else, something less flirty and more sophisticated, now she was certainly going to…

 

_Feyre, 23:37 - Well, you’d kept your promise, and I like to reward good behavior._

 

He stared at the screen for a few seconds, and wanted to slap himself in the face for his earlier scare. He was acting like a boy talking to his first crush and not knowing how to act ! He mentally forced his brain to pull itself together, and answered:

 

_23:39 - I’m certainly glad you do, darling. Are you still out with your friends?_

_Feyre, 23:42 - No, one of them has two young kids so she had to go home and free the babysitter. How was your dinner?_

_23:45 - Good enough, although it would have been better with you there._

_Feyre, 23:48 - We’d just spent an hour together and you were already missing me ? A bit clingy, don’t you think?_

_23:51 - Is it my fault that you’re such an interesting woman to talk to? My cousin was a bit offended that I didn’t pay attention to her tonight, she might be angry at you for stealing her night, I’d be careful._

_Feyre, 23:54 - if she’s that sort of woman, maybe we’d get along well and then_ you’ll _have to be careful._

_23:57 - And what would you do to me, darling?_

_Feyre, 00:01 - That’s a question I’d rather not answer in a text. You might held me accountable one day ;)_

 

He let out a laugh at her answer. Gods, with each text he sent, he was afraid he would be pushing his luck too far and she’d end up pushing him away. But every time, she answered with more bantering, and that was something he could learn to get used to.

 

_00:05 - Well darling in that case, you give me no choice. I’ll have to hear it directly from you, won’t I? Let’s say over dinner, on Friday?_

_Feyre, 00:08 - Already asking me out? That’s rather bold, mister._

_Feyre, 00:09 - Can it be Saturday? I have a thing on Friday._

_00:10 - Bold seems to work so… ;) Saturday works, although I’m hurt you’re trying to delay our lovely second encounter, darling._

_00:13 - You can call it a date you know._

 

He stared at his screen, smiling widely.

 

_00:15 - I wouldn’t want you to call me “clingy” again. Plus, you already told me about rewarding good behavior so I’m doing my best._

_Feyre, 00:17 - We’ll see about your reward after our date I guess... Rhys, I’m exhausted, I’m gonna go to bed. Good night._

_00:18 - Sweet dreams, darling._

 

He turned off his TV, got up the stairs and collapsed onto his bed, unable to erase the faint smile off his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I wrote another one ^^ I actually have an idea of where this fic is going now, so I'll try to update every two weeks or something :)  
> Thank you so much for reading !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter three ! I hope you like it :)  
> Important : there’s a short mention of physical abuse in this one.

Feyre didn't like to admit it, but she was nervous. She had been thinking about that event for most of the week, trying to prepare herself for this moment, but she was still unable to calm herself as she walked through the doors of the hall.

She wasn’t even the star tonight, she was just the illustrator, part of the team, not the author of the book that was introduced, but it was still her drawings, her representation of the characters and their story, that appeared on the huge banners hanging from the windows.

Stronger than the nervousness though, was the excitement. It wasn’t the first book cover she’d designed, but this one was special. She had found the manuscript on her desk a few months back, and had been so absorbed by the story, she had not only designed several propositions for the cover, she’d also brought to life more than a dozen of her favorite scenes from the book, never planning on doing anything with them. But Diana, the author, had caught a glimpse of them on Feyre’s desk during a meeting, and had insisted to see them in details, and for Feyre to finish them. And now, more than four months later, there was the book’s special illustrated edition seating on every table. It was the first time her work was actually looked at closely during an event of the publishing company, and if she was lucky, she might meet some people interested in giving her more jobs. Gods knew she needed them, with her newfound financial independence relying exclusively on her work as an illustrator.

So she was there tonight, trying not to look too nervous and out of place in the dress she’d chosen to wear, knee-cut, dark blue with long sleeves and an open back. She didn’t usually dress up that fancy, even during other opening nights she’d been to. But then again, this could turn out to be an important night for her career, and she’d wanted to look her best, so she’d gone out with Alis last weekend and had brought this very impressive, very out-of-her-budget dress, and was now feeling so nervous that she was wishing for a comfortable pair of leggings instead of it. She was imagining herself wearing any other kind of shoes than the heels she was in, when she heard someone call her name:

“Feyre, there you are, I’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes!” said Diana, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a quick embrace.

“Hi Diana, how are you? How is your big night coming along so far?”

“Oh it’s great! The introduction speech Harry gave was amazing, and I’m glad you’re here, because I want you to meet someone”, Diana answered, tugging her through the crowd to the far end of the hall.

“Oh?”

“Yes! He’s a friend of mine I met during a writer’s convention in New York last year, and he absolutely adored your illustrations in the special edition, so he’d like to talk to you.”

Feyre felt her heart skip a beat and smiled widely at Diana and the man she was now introducing her to. This was going to be a good night.

 

***

 

Feyre went to the buffet in the hope of finding something to eat, after having spent a good half hour talking with Diana’s friend about his project. Grabbing a mini quiche, she got her phone out of her purse and checked her messages. As it usually did since two nights ago, when she’d slipped her number into the pocket of the stranger from the pub, her phone indicated she had a new message from Rhys.

 

_Rhysand, 19:43 - Hey, I hope I’m not bothering you, I just wanted to tell you that I finished the audiobook you told me about yesterday, and you were right, it’s really good! I couldn’t believe the way it ended! Do you know if there’ll be a second one?_

 

She smiled at his text. She knew he was going to love it.

 

_20:25 - Well as a matter of fact, I read the manuscript for the sequel three weeks ago, I’m designing the cover, so I can assure you there’ll be a book two!_

_Rhysand, 20:27 - You read it already?! Oh now, you MUST tell me what happens to the security guard!!_

_20:29 - I’m afraid I can’t do that, Rhys, it’s kind of in the job description to NOT reveal plot line to outsiders._

_Rhysand, 20:32 - Oh come on, you can’t let me wait for like six more months to know! That’ll be torture…_

_20:33 - You’re insufferable._

_Rhysand, 20:35 - I know, that’s what makes me so irresistible! Maybe knowing a bit of the plot can be my reward for good behavior on our date tomorrow?_

_20:38 - Oh, you would have to do much more than take me to a restaurant to make me reveal something like that…_

 

She was smiling at the text she’d just sent, actually amazed by her own audacity, when a sweet voice came from behind her.

“Feyre, honey?”

She stiffened immediately. This could not be happening, not here, not tonight, not when for the first time in a long time, she was actually enjoying herself without as much as a dark thought about her ex. She turned around slowly, her phone still in her hand.

“Ianthe,” one of Tamlin’s very close friends, who Feyre knew always wished to be something more to him, and had always been sickeningly sweet with Feyre. Ianthe pulled her into her arms and squeezed her very tightly.

“Oh I am so glad to see you honey ! And it’s _so_ unexpected!”

It was, thought Feyre, gently but firmly pushing out of her embrace, mainly because Ianthe worked as a personal shopper for Bloomingdales and had no ties whatsoever with the publishing industry.

“Errr - Hello Ianthe, what are you doing here?” She tried to smile politely at her but she felt like she might vomit if she opened her mouth too much. Seeing her brought back so many memories of the past year, that she might actually get sick if she stayed talking to her for too long.

“Oh this new client of mine is the owner of this building so he gets invited to all the big events, and he nicely offered to bring me along with him tonight. Isn’t he just a delight?”

Oh Feyre was sure that’s what Ianthe thought. A party with some of the most important persons of the publishing industry presented interesting opportunities for someone like her, and not careerwise. No, Ianthe was most likely interested in the young men she might be able to bring home  and maybe someday convince to marry her. It was her attraction to power and wealth that had brought her close to Tamlin’s family.

Not caring about the fact that Feyre was obviously uncomfortable, and actively trying to stir away from her, Ianthe strengthened her grip on her arm and kept talking:

“How are you doing these days? I heard you moved into a… studio?” She cringed at the last word, as if not leaving in a giant house close to the financial district was something to be frowned upon and not mentioned at fancy parties.

“I did. Actually Ianthe, I need to go, if you’ll excuse me”, Feyre needed to get away from her, get some fresh air, go home, and try not to cry before reaching said home. But Ianthe gripped her arm more firmly and looked at her with what could only be pity and concern.

“Feyre, honey, I’m glad we ran into each other, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I know everything didn’t go as planned between you and Tamlin.” An understatement. “I know the way he proposed to you was… a bit clumsy. Yes, I know he proposed the night you broke it off with him, Feyre. Actually, I’m the one who helped him pick out the ring”, she added with a smug smile. Well, at least that explained the 12 carat monstrosity that had been the engagement ring. As for the proposal, Feyre felt dizzy just thinking about how bad that night had gone. But Ianthe kept talking :

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you, if you need to talk about all of it with someone, and whenever you’re ready to come home, you can certainly count with me as your friend”, Ianthe was smiling softly, as if she was trying to reassure a crying child. Feyre finally looked directly at her, trying to process what she’d just heard.

“ _Come home?_ Ianthe, what are you talking about? I broke up with Tamlin, I’m not coming _“home”_ any time soon,” and while she said this, she finally pulled herself together and shook off Ianthe’s hand from her arm.

“Oh but honey, this situation can’t possibly be what you want? I mean, I know what you said to Tamlin when you… left, but you can’t seriously think he wouldn’t want you back, do you?”

“Oh I know he’d want me back Ianthe, but that’s not the point. I am _not_ going to get back together with him. And besides, I thought me being out the picture would finally give you the opportunity to jump in and get him into your claws?”

And with that, she left Ianthe on the spot and stormed out of the hall.

 

***

 

It was freezing outside. In her hurry, she’d forgotten to grab her jacket out of the cloakroom. But she was not going back. Not tonight anyway, not after seeing Ianthe, hearing her talk about Tamlin, and his proposal, and everything that had gone wrong that night. Not when she could still feel the glass of the cabinet he’d pushed her into shatter against her back. Not when she could still see the way his hands had clenched her wrists, so strongly it had left her with bruises for more than two weeks.

No, as cold as the night air was, she wouldn’t go back into the building to get her jacket. She pressed on her phone to see what time it was, and was surprised when she found a text waiting for her:

 

_Rhysand, 20:41 - Oh darling, if you think that, you obviously have not idea how good our date is going to be… ;)_

 

She stared blankly at his text. His flirty tone felt so out of place with the way she was feeling, she let out a quick nervous laugh. She’d felt so happy just fifteen minutes ago, with a new project in mind, feeling beautiful and powerful in her dark blue dress, flirting easily with a guy she was going on a date with… And now she just felt like going home, turning off her lights and crying for the rest of the night. But she needed to answer to him, it would seem rude if she just stopped texting all of a sudden.

 

_20:57 - Sorry Rhys, not in the mood. Good night._

 

She walked to the subway, got into the train and sat quietly for the next fifteen minutes before getting out at her station. When she got to the surface again, her phone immediately lit up.

 

_Rhysand, 21:01 - Are you okay? Sorry if I said something wrong._

_21:15 - It’s not you, I just ran into someone I really didn’t want to see._

_Rhysand, 21:17 - Oh, okay. Do you need to talk about it? I’m in The Rainbow right now but I could come closer to where you are if you want._

 

Feyre looked at his text. This guy she’d met two days ago and had mainly talked about movies and books with, was so concerned about her well-being that he was apparently willing to let go of whatever he was doing to come join her in another part of town if she needed it. She took her time before answering.

 

 _21:25 - I need to talk about anything_ but _that. That’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to bother you. Though just fyi, I live in The Rainbow and I’m heading home so you wouldn’t have to go too far._

_Rhysand, 21:27 - You’re in The Rainbow? I could go for a coffee if you want, it wouldn’t bother me, I was heading home too._

 

She thought about the perspective of home. Curling up on her bed with her hot water bottle at her feet, a bag of chips and nothing to think about but her ex-boyfriend and her earlier encounter with his friend. Without thinking too much about it, she answered:

 

_21:30 - Alright. Meet me at the King’s Head?_

_Rhysand, 21:31 - I’ll be right there!_


	4. Chapter 4

Rhysand was already seated in a booth inside the small pub when she came in. His eyes went to her, and Gods, was she beautiful. Her hair was held half up and falling lightly on her shoulders, she was wearing some light make-up, and her dark blue cocktail dress suited her perfectly, clinging to every curve of her body. He enjoyed the sight of her while she was scanning the pub, and when her eyes fell on him, he suddenly felt very self-conscious about his own clothes. He’d been at the gym ten minutes before and was wearing a loose tracksuit and a large hoodie, so at odds with her sophisticated beautiful dress. But she smiled faintly when she saw him, and advanced to meet him. He was about to get up to greet her, not sure if he should shake her hand, hug her quickly, kiss her on the cheek (that last one seemed definitely off-limits), when she just sat down in front of him, sparing him of the decision. Now that she was so close, he could see that, although she was smiling at him a few seconds ago, her eyes were red and swollen, as if she’d been crying only minutes before. She was looking away from him, her hands clenched together on top of the table, as if trying to prevent them from shaking. She looked so vulnerable, he would have liked to comfort her, but really had no idea how. So he just started talking:

“Well Darling, if I’d known you would look so lovely tonight, I definitely would have changed before meeting you!”

It was only a half-truth, as he was coming from the gym and had no other clothes with him. But he would certainly have made an effort to arrange his disheveled hair. Her eyes met his, and she seemed to suddenly register how she looked like, because she looked down herself and started blushing.

“I don’t normally dress up that much, I was just at a party for work…”

Why was she trying to excuse herself for looking like she did, he had no idea. But she was obviously uncomfortable now that he’d brought it up, so he tried to unwind her by changing the subject:

“I’m going to get something to drink, what would you like?”

“Hot chocolate would be nice, if you don’t mind?”

“One hot chocolate coming right up.”

He left her at the table, hoping being alone for a few minutes would help her relax and feel a bit better.

 

***

 

She was a mess. An absolute mess. Not physically, she knew how good she looked in her dress, and even her sobs from earlier shouldn’t have ruined her makeup too much. No, she looked fine, it was on the inside that she felt like she was crumbling all over. Tears had rolled down her face all through her subway ride to The Rainbow, but now that she was drained of them, she just felt… empty. Rhys had smiled so widely at her, and he seemed to be in such a good mood, she started regretting her decision to meet him. He was a man she’d met only two days earlier, they were supposed to go on a date the next day, her first date in a long time, and there she was, just wanting to brood in silence for the next few hours. Maybe it had been a mistake, he was probably going to cancel their date after seeing how unresponsive she was going to be right now. But she couldn’t force herself, she couldn’t act like she was cheerful. She’d pretended to be happy for too long with Tamlin, and it had cost her too much, she wouldn’t be able to lie to someone else that way. So even if she ruined her chances to show Rhys how enjoyable of a person she could normally be, she wouldn’t force it.

She was still staring at the sugar bowl on the table when he came back with two mugs.

“There you go, one hot chocolate. I didn’t know if you wanted cream so I didn’t pour any in, but I can go fetch some.”

“Like that is fine, thanks.”

He sat down in front of her and they said nothing for a while, before Feyre blurted out:

“To be honest, I don’t know why I agreed to see you tonight, because I really don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“Oh. Well, we don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. I’m fine with just enjoying my tea quietly, if you don’t mind my company,” he answered with a wink and a soft smile.

She met his eyes, and couldn’t help but feel a little warmer on the inside at his words. So they sat there, sipping their drink, in unexpectedly comfortable silence. After a few minutes like that, Feyre already felt a tad better, and started talking, making him startle:

“So, what are you doing in The Rainbow, on a Friday evening?”

“My gym is nearby. I usually go home earlier but I wanted to try an indian restaurant up the street before going home.”

“The _Thangabali_?”

“Yes, have you tried it? Is it any good?”

“I did try it, more than once,” she chuckled, “I live right above it. It’s kind of my go-to restaurant when I don’t feel like cooking. You should definitely try it sometimes.”

“Duly noted.”

They fell silent again, but this time, it was Rhysand that started talking:

“Feyre, I don’t want to push you, and we can keep on not talking if you prefer. But if you want to talk to me about what happened tonight, you can.”

Their eyes met, and she looked at him for a while. She didn’t know why exactly, why she felt like she could trust him. Maybe it was the way his eyes seemed soft and piercing at the same time, but when she answered, it wasn’t to talk about a book, or a restaurant, or any other easy subject she could have talked about. No, when she answered, she said:

“My last relationship... I ended it a few months ago, and it wasn’t the most… healthy break-up. Or the most healthy relationship for that matter. Anyway, tonight I ran into one of my ex’s friends, and it brought back memories I would have rather kept at bay.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it kind of ruined my night. So I’m not going to be the most lively person tonight, sorry.”

She was looking away from him, and she startled when his hands came on top of her own, clenched together on top of the table, covering them in a soft touch.

“You don’t have to apologize, you’re entitled of having a bad day,” he said, and when she smiled at him, he added on a lighter tone, his hands still on hers “so how was the rest of your night ? You were at a party?”

It seemed that phrasing what had happened, even if it was to someone that didn’t know the rest of her messy history, had helped her calm down. Or maybe it was _because_ he didn’t know her history with Tamlin that she felt good about talking to him, even in scarce details. So she started telling him about the party, how proud she’d felt seeing her illustrations on the windows, the new project she might work on. All the while, his hands rested on hers, their drinks forgotten on the table.

 

***

 

They talked for nearly an hour, first about her night, then her work as an illustrator, before moving on to him and his job as a real estate developer. Ok, if he’d been completely honest, he might have told her that the company was his father’s, and would someday be entirely his. But they had just met a few days before, and he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with telling her about the fact that he was a billionaire, soon to be main shareholder and CEO of one of the biggest firms in the city. It might seem selfish, but he felt good when he talked to her, and he was afraid that she would change the way she looked at him if she knew exactly who he was. He felt good talking to her, and he felt good touching her, he thought, relishing in the sensation of her hands under his. When she’d talked about her ex and then actually _apologized_ for it, he’d felt the urge to touch her, hoping she wasn’t going to brush him off. But she’d let her hands under his, and it just felt _right_. Well, except for the fact that he was starving. With their unscheduled encounter, he hadn’t eaten after leaving the gym. It had been nearly two hours since then, and his stomach suddenly protested loudly at being forgotten for that long. Feyre laughed at the sound, and said:

“Oh Rhys, you haven’t eaten, I’m so sorry!”

“No it’s fine, really,” he answered, although the noise coming from his belly told another story, “Yeah, okay, I was betrayed by my traitor of a stomach ! I’m starving.”

Slowly getting her hands out of his embrace, she reached for her purse to check the time on her phone.

“Actually, it’s already more than 11 o’clock, I should head home.”

“Yes I’m gonna go home too.”

Although if he was being honest, he thought while putting on his coat, he really didn’t want to go home, or not alone anyway. He felt a certain kind of ease around her, the kind that he would have liked to take home with him. But they were suddenly out of the pub and into the cold air of the night, saying good night. She was shivering in front of him, and he realized that she had indeed come into the pub without a coat earlier. That was certainly strange, as her dress was clearly not warm in spite of the long sleeves, and he wanted to ask her where her coat had gone, but found himself saying instead:

“You’re gonna freeze to death with nothing to cover yourself with. Do you want my sweater?”

“Oh no, thank you, I don't live too far, you're gonna need it more than I do.”

“Can you at least take this to cover your head ? I really don’t want you to get sick.” He took a violet woolen hat out of his gym bag and handed it to her. She looked at the hand holding the hat, then looked up at him, and grabbed the hat slowly.

“Thank you Rhys, you really don’t have to do that,” she said, pulling the hat on her head nonetheless.

“Well, that way you can’t cancel our date tomorrow by telling me you’re sick!” He answered with a wink.

“Or maybe I’ll cancel, and keep your hat forever...!”

“You should, it suits you well.”

They stayed silent a few seconds, and Rhys was not sure how to say good night to her, but she pulled him into a quick hug and whispered in his ear “See you tomorrow, Rhys.” The hug was over before he could register it had happened, and then she was walking away. He headed to the subway station, his hands in his pocket, the image of her walking up the street, in her lovely cocktail dress and his hat, stuck in his brain. Tomorrow couldn’t arrive fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 4 ! I hope you guys like it :)


	5. Chapter 5

It was near seven o’clock when she got into the subway to go join Rhys. She’d sent him a text the night before, saying “ _Thank you for the drink. And the hat. Have a good night :)_ ”, and after his first answer, they had arranged for their meeting on Saturday evening. So there she was, on the Northern Lights line, heading to the eastern part of Velaris, close to the mountains. She was extremely nervous about tonight, and had spent her afternoon at home, doing chores and trying not to think too much about it. But it _was_ a big deal for her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She hadn’t been on an actual date in nearly a year, not since her first few months with Tamlin, when he was still making efforts to please her. After a while, he had just started suggesting they stayed at home and invited people over, instead of going out, and she’d let him have his way, trying to enjoy the time spent with his friends, thinking that it was normal for him to want to have her for himself, trying to convince herself that this need to control and shadow her was a form of love she should appreciate. So her last night out in any kind of romantic situation had happened nine months ago, and now that she was going to meet with Rhys for their first actual date, she couldn’t help feeling anxious. She’d kept his hat on her head longer than necessary when coming home the night before, enjoying its warmth, and she’d found sleep rather easily, considering her encounter with Ianthe.

It was a bit crazy to think about how this man that had come into her life so unexpectedly only a few days before had been able to lift this weight off her, if only for a few hours. How the hands that had enveloped hers had seemed immediately comforting and _right_. How when she had hugged him before leaving, she hadn’t really wanted to let go of him, relishing in the proximity of his heart against her chest. She didn’t know what to make of all of this, and maybe going on a real date would help her figure it out.

She got out at the station he’d told her about, and found him waiting outside, hands buried in the pockets of his dark jeans, a heavy dark coat enveloping his upper body. His eyes found hers and seemed to light up at the same time a broad smile appeared on his lips.

“Hi Feyre.”

“Hi Rhys, how are you?”

“Oh certainly better now that you’re here ! How is your day going so far?”

“Good enough, although I recall being promised a meal in one of your favorite restaurants, and I’m now standing in front of a subway station, freezing. I hope you have better in store, mister.”

He laughed at her answer, and said:

“Oh I certainly do, come on.”

They entered a restaurant a few streets away. I was really small, just a handful of tables, and it had a warm atmosphere, mainly thanks to the heavy curtains covering the ceiling, and the cozy light produced by the candles in every table. Rhys led her to a table in a small alcove, and she sat down as he took off his jacket, revealing a dark blue shirt underneath. She chuckled at the sight.

“Do you _ever_ wear anything that’s not black or dark blue?”

He smiled and answered “Barely ever. You have to admit they go perfectly with my eyes, though.”

She was certainly not going to admit that, even if he was completely right. He seemed to know exactly how handsome he was, and she wasn’t going to feed his ego some more. So she simply rolled her eyes and started studying the menu.

 

***

 

They started chatting once their food was ordered.

“You look beautiful tonight, Darling.”

She did. Even though her clothes were the opposite of the dress she had been wearing the night before, the dark jeans and tight beige sweater created a very simple and intimate look, and he found that outfit more attractive than any cocktail dress she could wear. A light blush started coloring her cheeks at his words, and he couldn’t refrain from biting his lower lip at how gorgeous this woman was.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Oh, so you _do_ admit that my shirt suits me then,” he answered teasingly. He wasn’t ready to admit to her that he’d tried about ten different shirts before settling for this one, trying to look his best after seeing her the night before. After all, wearing an old stained hoodie and an even older tracksuit wasn't exactly how he wanted her to picture him. She rolled her eyes again, although she was smiling, and her cheeks were still exquisitely flushed with color. She looked so much more relaxed than she had the night before, when her eyes had been red from her crying, and she had been averting his eyes. These were obviously good signs, but he wanted to make sure.

“More seriously, are you… feeling better than yesterday?”

“Much better. Thank you again for the drink and… for not asking too many questions.” Her voice was lower, her smile softer as she looked at him.

“Hey, it’s your personal life, I don’t want to pressure you into anything if you’re not comfortable talking about it. Although, as I told you yesterday, feel free to talk to me if you want to.”

He wanted to grab her hand again like he’d done the night before, not to comfort her this time, but only to enjoy the feeling of her long fingers in his. But one of her hands was hidden under the table, probably resting on her knees, and the other was tuging some hair behind her ear, so he just kept on watching her.

“Thank you for the offer, but to be honest I don’t really want to talk about that with you because… Well I feel like I can be myself around you, because you don’t know about my last relationship and knowing might change the way you see me. So for now, I prefer for you to not know too much about that, if that’s okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, Feyre. I just want you to know that if some day you feel comfortable enough to tell me about it, I promise I won’t see you any differently. I’m good at keeping promises, remember?”

She chuckled at that, and their food arrived then. She looked at her plate and her eyelids fluttered close as she took in the smell coming from it. He watched her chest go up as her lungs filled in, and couldn’t keep himself from - again - thinking about how beautiful she looked. He looked up to meet her eyes and found her watching him, a smirk on her face and her eyebrows shot up suggestively, as if she’d known exactly where he’d been looking. He blushed and cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed.

“So Feyre, you... you told me yesterday you liked painting on your free time? Being an illustrator is more than just a job then, isn’t it?”

“I do. Well, I haven’t had time to paint much in the last few months, but yes, I love painting,” she answered, apparently ready to let him get away with ogling her so clearly.

“It must be good to be able to work with your passion.”

“Well, yes and no. Sometimes it can be frustrating to work on commission if I’m not inspired at first, so I can spend days drawing various ideas and hating all of it. At the same time, there are moments like the illustrations for the book that was presented at the party yesterday, when I’m so inspired I can’t stop myself. So it’s very interesting and I’m glad I’m able to work in that field.”

“You’re very lucky about that you know.”

“You don’t like what you do?”

“It’s not so much that I don’t like it, it’s more like I was expected to do what I do since I was a kid, so I never really pictured myself doing anything else, and my job isn’t exactly what I’m passionate about.”

“How were you _expected_ to be a real-estate developer since you were a kid?”

“Oh… It’s kind of a family thing, it’s what my father and my uncle do, so…” He didn’t have a good answer to give her, not one that didn’t involve telling her that he was the heir to a multi-billion dollars company. She seemed to sense his discomfort:

“We don’t have to talk about work if you don’t want to. Actually, I’d prefer for us not to talk about work, I feel like knowing what you do with your spare time is much more interesting. For example, _why_ do you go to a gym in The Rainbow if you live this side of the Sidra?”

“Ah, there’s a very good explanation for that!”

 

***

 

The food had been splendid, rich but with just the right amount of everything, each dish served with an accompanying glass of wine. Feyre couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed a meal that much. But the food wasn’t the greatest aspect of the night. Rhys, however arrogant he seemed to be, was good company, listening intently to her when she talked and keeping a very lively and interesting conversation. She felt comfortable around him, she was able to talk freely about her interests, and she was rather enjoying watching him talk too. It wasn't just that he was handsome (although, he _was_ ), but he had so much charisma that she’d spent her evening resisting the urge to touch him, and forcing herself not to look at him too… intensely.

It was already near midnight when their waiter awkwardly interrupted their conversation to tell them that the restaurant was about to close, and they went into the street, still talking. They headed slowly towards the subway station, and when Feyre felt her fingers brush slightly against his, she once more resisted the urge to hold his hand. From the corner of her vision, she saw he was also glancing at their hands so close to one another, and he gently took her hand in his. The movement made her smile. At least one of them wasn’t too shy to dare take a step closer. They continued to walk hand in hand, neither of them talking, until they were in front of the subway station. Rhys turned to face her, his right hand still holding hers while he rubbed the back of his neck with his left one:

“I had a great evening, Feyre.”

“Me too.”

“Text me when you get home?”

“Sure.”

She didn't want to go home yet, she thought, watching him bite his lower lip. Her eyes went up to meet his gaze, and she felt her body warm up a little as his hand left the back of his neck, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and stopped to rest gently on her cheek. He was watching her with an incredible focus, but he didn’t move. Feyre took in a deep breath. After all, he’d been the one to take her hand earlier, maybe it was her turn to stop being shy. And with that thought, she stood on the tip of her toes, and brushed her lips against his. He kissed her back instantly, moving his lips ever so slowly, his hand still on her cheek. They broke apart after a few seconds, but Feyre didn’t open her eyes immediately, trying to memorize every second of what had happened. When she opened her eyes to go back to reality, she found him smiling softly against her, his eyes also closed. He came closer and whispered “sweet dreams, Feyre” before placing a featherlight kiss on her ear.

 

***

 

Later, as she was reaching her apartment, she couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips had felt so soft on hers, how hearing his voice close to her ear had made her insides flutter, how hard it had been to let go of his hand and walk away from him. She slipped her hands into her bag to grab her keys and laughed as she touched his hat, that she had completely forgotten to give back to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I’m actually keeping up to my schedule of one chapter a week so far, I hope I’ll keep doing that well !! Here’s chapter 6, and before you read it, quick disclaimer : I’m really bad at describing places when I write in English, so don’t be mad but there’s a whole section of this chapter I’m really not happy about ^^’
> 
> I hope you enjoy it nonetheless !!

Rhys and Morrigan walked into the cafe across from his office. It was Thursday already, and the week had gone by in a flash. Granted, the two lunch dates with Feyre had probably helped a little. They had met on Monday and Wednesday, and during those occasions, he hadn’t been able to keep away from her, whether by holding her hand, by pressing his hand on her back to lead her through a door, by tucking some strand of hair away from her face,... he’d just wanted to feel her against him all the time. She hadn’t seemed to mind either, not hesitating to peck him on the lips as a goodbye, and not backing away when he had slipped a hand around her waist to keep her close to him and make the kiss last just a few seconds longer. They’d kept on texting everyday since their first date, and every time he left her, he was missing her the moment she was out of sight.

He sat down in front of Mor, stirring his thoughts away from Feyre to listen to what his cousin was telling him.

“So I was thinking _you_ should tell Azriel to come with us to Rita’s tonight. He’s been working way too hard on this new security system for the office network, I’m not even sure he went home last night.”

“I get that Mor, I just don’t understand why you think I would have more success inviting him than you did. He never agrees to go out when I invite him, I don’t see why today would be any different.”

“Well… I already tried and he refused. He told me that you needed the new system to be ready by tomorrow, so it’s your fault he’s not coming, you have to fix it.”

“It _does_ have to be ready tomorrow, you know it does, you heard your father as well as I did during the meeting on Tuesday. And don’t tell me you actually believe I would force my brother to work day and night without a break. If he told you he wouldn’t come, he won’t come and nothing I can say will change that.”

“Yes but Rhys, Cassian came home last night and we didn’t celebrate yet, Az _has_ to be here.”

“I know, I’ll do what I can to convince him but you know him as well as I do, if he doesn’t want to leave the office tonight, he won’t leave the office.”

“Well then we’ll just celebrate tomorrow night.”

“I can’t tomorrow, I’m busy.”

“Busy? With what? Amren is in Europe with Varian, and I’ll be hanging out with Cassian and Azriel. _Do you have other friends_ _?_ ”

He chuckled at her joke, and considered his answer for a few seconds before saying:

“No I… I have a date.”

“A date, huh? Is it with that girl you told me about last week? The one you _'weren’t going to see again'_?”

“... Yes. I actually went out with her on Saturday and it went really well.”

Mor started asking him questions again, but he stayed vague about his answers. He didn’t want to give her too many details, like for example the fact that their next date was going to happen at his house, where he had offered to cook for her. He wasn’t exactly willing to see his cousin barge into his living room in the middle of his date to introduce herself to Feyre. Meeting Feyre for lunch had been nice, but he was eager to see her in a more intimate setting, if only so that she might be more relaxed. She was hiding it well, but he could see the shadows that sometimes entered her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking at her. He didn't know anything too personal about her, she hadn’t seemed willing to talk about her family, or her ex, and he hadn’t pushed the subjects, hoping that she would open up when she’d feel comfortable enough. Maybe being alone together instead of at a restaurant would help her feel more at ease around him, at least that’s what he hoped. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that attracted to someone, both physically and intellectually, so he wanted everything to go as well as possible, and an impromptu visit from his cousin wasn’t exactly part of a perfect night.

 

***

 

Feyre entered the cab and gave the driver Rhys’ address. She laid back on her seat and took a deep breath, once more thinking about the events of the past week. She’d kept smiling all Sunday when she thought about him (which had been a lot, considering they’d kept on texting regularly throughout the day), recalling the sensation of his warm lips against hers, and she’d been the one suggesting meeting him for lunch on Monday. After seeing each other five times in barely a week, and sharing a few sweet kisses since Saturday, there was no denying that she found him extremely charming, and enjoyed spending time with him, but she was now headed to his house to have dinner with him, and that was quite different from just seeing him for a quick lunch. She was excited to see him again, glad he had invited her to his home, but she didn’t know if it was a good idea getting closer to him. She felt good when she saw him, but there was some other feeling crawling under the surface, and the more she thought about it, the more it felt like guilt. Guilt when she’d been the one initiating the quick kisses they’d shared, guilt when she’d let him deepen those kisses ever so slightly, guilt when she’d delighted in their conversations over the week. Every time she started enjoying herself, her mind immediately went to Tamlin, and the way she’d left him, and that even though the end of their relationship had been rough, that didn’t excuse her for already starting to like somebody else. But when Rhys had offered a dinner at his house on Friday, she hadn’t been able to resist saying yes, eager to see him again.

The taxi stopped and she paid the driver before she stepped out and found Rhys waiting for her on the front steps of a three story townhouse. He stood up to meet her and she smiled as she took in his light pair of jeans and the maroon shirt unbuttoned at the top from which she could see his tattoos peering out, immediately glad to have accepted their date.

“Hey you.”

“Hey Feyre,” he answered, giving her a small peck on the cheek and taking her hand in his.

“So you _do_ have clothes in other colors.”

“I do. Do you like it?”

“It’s not too bad,” she said, glad to see him blush a bit at that answer. She looked behind him, taking in the full measure of the townhouse, just now realizing they were in one of the most expensive residential districts of the city.

“ _This_ is your house?”

“Yeah, do you want a tour?”

“Hum, yeah sure.”

He led her up the stairs and into the house. They entered a small hall, and Rhys took her jacket to hang it on a hook by the front door, before leading her into the living room to their right. The place was … cozy, there was no other way to describe it. The entire wall in front of them was covered in books, and there were two grey chairs and an accompanying couch in the room, that one oriented at the TV, while the chairs were closer to the window, probably meant to be a place to read. On the left side of the room, the space was open and she could see the kitchen from where they were standing. He followed her gaze and started talking:

“The kitchen’s over there, I thought we’d eat in there if that’s fine with you? The dining room is pretty big and I generally prefer to use it only for formal meetings and stuffs like that.”

“Oh sure, wherever you want is fine. You know, if we were eating at my apartment, we’d basically have the choice between eating standing up or sitting on my bed, so the kitchen is fine!”

She realized what she’d said the second the words left her mouth. Making jokes about inviting him on her bed wasn’t exactly what she should be doing if she wanted to take it slow with him. He raised a suggestive eyebrow at her and said:

“Well maybe I wouldn’t mind sitting on your bed, Darling.”

She rolled her eyes and followed him when he offered to show her the garden. They crossed the kitchen and he opened a glass door to reveal a small garden surrounded by massive trees that shielded it from being exposed to the neighbors.

“It’s not special or anything, I’m not good with flowers or vegetables so it’s basically just grass, but I like to sit out there by myself sometimes, it’s... calm.”

“I like it that way. Although my sister would disagree if she saw it, she’d probably redesign the whole thing with some exotic plant or something.”

“You have a sister?” He answered, turning towards her. He seemed genuinely interested and she realized they had never before talked about their close families.

“Two older sisters. Elain is a florist, she’s always been really good with growing stuffs so her career was always kind of a given.”

“And your other sister?”

“Nesta. She’s… Well Nesta is a far too complicated person to be summed up by her job _or_ her hobby.”

He laughed at that and gently took her hand again, leading her back inside and up the stairs, passing rapidly the second floor and telling her it had three bedrooms with joined bathrooms. He did not explicitly tell her which one was his bedroom - not that she wanted to know, she reminded herself as they climbed up towards the third floor. On that floor was a fourth bedroom, a small bathroom and a study, and finally, a last flight of stairs led them to what was clearly what Rhys was the most enthusiastic about, the rooftop of his house. Pebbles covered the entire roof, and a table and some chairs were installed in the middle of it. What seemed to be a jacuzzi took up a large portion of the left side of the terrace, and an outdoor sofa occupied the right side. But it wasn’t all of this that made Feyre gasp. It was the view they had from there. They could see the entirety of Velaris, lights illuminating the bay, the ocean looking like a giant mirror where she could see the reflection of the night sky above them. She approached the rail of the rooftop and leaned against it, taking in the city. She felt him coming up next to her and they watched the city in silence for a few moments before she found the strength to tear her eyes away from the stars and look at him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“How does a 28 year old employee manage to afford a place like that in one of the most expensive districts of Velaris?”

He looked at her for an eternity before answering.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

They were back in the kitchen after he saw her shivering and suggested they went downstairs, gleaning some more minutes to think about how he was going to tell her about his father and the billion-dollars company he was to inherit soon enough.

“It’s about your job, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, kind of. How did you know?”

“Because I’m not stupid Rhys. You barely gave me any details about your work when we approached the subject, and … Well, money clearly isn’t a problem for you, so I’m guessing the thing you weren’t honest about is your job. You’re not really good at hiding things, you know.”

She smiled at him as if to encourage him, but he could feel she was more distant than she’d been before. Gods, he could  _ not _ screw this up, he liked her way too much to screw it up because of something as unimportant to him as his job. He took a deep breath and started talking:

“I told you I worked for the Night Court Real Estate. That’s... partly true.”

“Partly?”

“I do work at the Night Court, but I don’t work  _ for  _ them.”

“What do you mean?”

He hadn’t had that much trouble getting out words in a long time. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to pull his thoughts back together.

“My father … My father is CEO of the company.”

“Oh,” she answered, as if she was registering the information he just gave her. And then her eyes widened, and she repeated, more quietly, “Oh.”

“He opened a real estate agency when he was young, and it grew rapidly into one of the biggest real estate developers in the country. It was always expected of me to take over after him when he retired, so I've been working with him since I graduated college.”

“So… You’re like, the future CEO of one of the most important companies in the state. Your father is the founder of one of the most influential companies in the state. In the country. You’re...” She seemed at loss for words, and was just staring at him.

“I am. But Feyre, I figure, it doesn’t change anything, does...”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She cut him out, and the look on her face… he couldn’t describe it, couldn’t interpret it. She was watching him blankly, just waiting for his answer, and he didn’t know what was the best course of action, what kind of answer she was expecting. So he just started talking, hoping the truth would be enough for her.

“Feyre, I like you very much, I truly do. And, this part of who I am, this company, the money my family has… People I meet have a tendency to focus mainly on that part of me and not want to look too closely at who  _ I  _ am. The heir of the Night Court Company, that’s not who I wanted you to see from the start.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he started panicking. He’d thought it best not to tell her, to let her see him for who he was without knowing about the Night Court. But now that it was out in the open, and she was just staring at him with her beautiful blue-grey eyes that had mesmerized him from the second he’d seen her in that pub, he wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea. So he just waited for her to answer, enjoying the sight of her in case it was the last time he saw her, and getting ready to curse his father for eternity if she walked out of his home right now. But he was taken aback by her answer.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok. I understand, it’s a pretty big piece of information about you and we’ve only know each other for a week. Thank you for telling me.”

He felt a weight lift off his chest and instinctively took her hand back in his.

“Thank you for understanding.”

She smiled slightly at him and squeezed his hand. 

“ _ So _ anyway, I believe you made me dinner ?”

“Indeed. Have a seat.”

 

***

 

“So what did you think?”

“Of the cake? It’s good enough.”

“‘Good enough’? I spent an hour making it and it’s on _ ly ‘good enough’ _ ?”

He looked positively offended by her answer, and she laughed.

“It was really good. The best cake I’ve ever tasted. I don’t think I will ever be able to enjoy food the same way after trying your cake. It changed my entire way of thinking about chocolate. I...”

“Oh shut up.”

He was trying to look offended, but the smile on his lips told a different story. She had enjoyed the meal,  _ and _ the company of the man who had prepared it, and was now putting dishes on the sink while she sat at the table, after he’d refused to let her help. She got up and walked to him, his back facing her as he was looking towards the sink. She put a hand on his lower back and waited for him to face her. They were so close she could feel his breath on her lips. She pressed a hand behind his neck and got up to the tip of her toes to approach his face, brushing her lips softly against his. His mouth still tasted like chocolate and she said : “I did like it, Rhys.” Then she pressed more against him and closed her eyes to enjoy their kiss. He let go of the plate he was holding and she felt his arms encircle her waist and hold her against him as he answered her kiss. They kissed gently for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of each other’s lips as they had done a few times already, before Feyre dared graze her tongue very softly against him. He opened his mouth for her and she felt his hands tighten on her back as their tongues started brushing and exploring more and more of the other. Feyre leaned on the kitchen counter behind her, and let her hand slide up his neck to run her fingers through his hair. One of his hand left her back to cup her cheek, and she felt all of his body pressing against hers as their kiss deepened and she gripped the back of his shirt. She wanted to feel more of him, but she let go of his lips after a moment, gasping for air. They stayed like that for a few seconds, holding each other, her fingers in his hair and his hand caressing her cheek, before he whispered:

“I’ll make you cake everyday if that’s the responde I get.”

“Oh Gods, you’re insufferable, you know that?” She rolled her eyes and reluctantly let go of his hair. He chuckled and said :

“Do you want to go… sit on the couch?”

“Yes.”

 

***

 

They moved into the living room and she sat down next to him, a lot closer than what was necessary for a simple conversation. He didn’t seem to mind though, because he slipped an arm around her and tugged her even closer to him. They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, leaning against one another, their fingers intertwined. She enjoyed the feeling of his thumb stroking her palm gently, and she felt the want to curl up against him and kiss him again, already missing the way his tongue had felt against hers. She started talking, if only to occupy her lips with something else that his:

“So I told you about my sisters, what about you? Any siblings?”

“Yes actually, I have a little sister. Her name’s Lyra, she’s fourteen. 

“Fourteen? That’s a pretty big age difference between you two.”

“Yeah, my parents had troubles conceiving. They had me when my mother was thirty-four, and they had given up on ever having another child when Lyra came around. She was so spoiled when she was a kid.”

“Oh and  _ you _ weren't? Somehow, I have trouble believing that”

He chuckled and flicked her nose, before resting his hand on her thigh. They were getting closer by the second, she had moved up her feet on the couch and started playing with some strand of his hair, relishing in his scent, a mixture of jasmine, citrus and… the ocean.

“I’ll have you know that I was not spoiled as a child.”

“Oh really?”

“I swear. You know, when I was seven, my mother sent me to live with the Illyrians.”

Feyre straightened up at his words. With the Illyrians? His mother had sent a child to live in the middle of the mountains? She’d sent him live with one of the only ethnies that still lived to their old tradition?

“What? Why?”

“Well, my mother is Illyrian, she was born in the mountains and she wanted me to grow up knowing my origins.”

“Wow. So how long did you live with them?”

“An entire year at first, but then my father insisted I had to come back and go to school in the city so I only went there three months a year during the holidays. It lasted until the end of high school.”

“So… you actually lived on those camps for that long?”

“Yep.”

“Wasn’t it hard as a kid?”

“They were times when it was hard, but I’m glad my mother sent me there. The way they live, so far away from everything else, even if it’s brutal and far from being perfect, Illyrian is a big part of who I am.”

Illyrian. That explained his soft brown skin and his dark hair. And, she realized, catching a glimpse of them on his chest, that probably explained the tattoos she’d spotted on him. Illyrians were famous for their tattoo artists and for the intricate symbols they marked on their skin. If Rhys’ tattoos were indeed Illyrians, they were probably covering his chest entirely. She was about to ask him about them when she realized that he would probably show them to her fully, therefore without his shirt. And as much as she wanted to see his bare skin, it was easier to keep her thoughts logical if he kept his clothes on. So she steered the conversation away, still ruffling his hair.

“I think it’s great that you feel that way about your Illyrian heritage. Do you still have strong ties with them?”

“I go up there from time to time for work. My father owns the land where most of their communities are located, that's actually how he met my mother. I’m not the one that goes most frequently though, my brothers do most of the field work.”

“Your brothers? I thought you said you had only the one sister?”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t tell you about them yet. I only have one related sister but I have two foster brothers that my mother took in when I was fairly young, so I consider them like brothers, and sometimes I don't even realize I call them that way.”

“Oh, so you grew up with them, then?”

“More or less. Cassian joined us when I was seven, a few weeks after I went to live at the camp. He never knew who his father was and his mother died when he was young so he was left to survive on his own, and when I saw him I brought him to my mother, who then took care of him.”

“He was left to live on his own as a  _ child _ ?”

“Yeah. I told you, Illyrians still live with their old traditions and it can be very brutal. Anyway, he came to live with us and then he came back with us to the city and my mom started the adoption procedure shortly after that. It was a bit different for Azriel, it’s not really my place to give you all the details but he had… he was abused by his family as a child and when my mother realized what had been happening to him, she got him away from them and took him in, but was never able to adopt him officially. We were twelve at the time.”

“They’re both Illyrians then?”

“Yes, and damn proud of it. So what about you? Any year long camping trips in your childhood?”

She let out a laugh before answering :

“None! Actually I've never been camping,” she joked, before continuing on a more serious tone, “My childhood was pretty mundane, my father worked in international commerce and my mother was involved in many different charities, although to be honest I think she was working with them more for the social status it brought her than to actually help people. Anyway, it went on like that until I was eleven, before my father lost his job. Then it… kind of went downhill from there. My mother left us about a year afterwards, my father had an accident that incapacitated him and so we ran out of money pretty fast, even selling our house didn’t buy us much time. So I started working before and after school when I was fourteen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I mean, it  _ was _ hard but… that’s just the way it happened, there’s really no reason to dwell on it now. Both my sisters managed to go to college and my father finally got enough money to afford surgery for his knee, he was able to work again, so that’s good.”

She didn’t want to explain to him how Tamlin had helped her father get back on his feet, how he’d managed to track her mom down and that she had been back with her father for nearly a year now. She didn’t want to talk about Tamlin right now, not when she was sitting so close to Rhys and enjoying his presence so much.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did  _ you _ get to go to college?”

She felt heat creep up her cheek at his question. She knew she had no rational reason for feeling bad about not going to college, but she did anyway.

“No, I didn’t. I took a full time job right after I graduated high school, because we needed enough money to pay for Nesta and Elain’s tuition fees and I knew starting college wouldn’t allow me to work that much. I always thought I might go back to college someday, but I’m nearly 24 years old now and I think I’m fine with the way things turned out. I like my job and I manage to pay my rent every month  _ and _ eat some food from time to time,” she finished, trying to lighten up the mood with a joke. He evidently picked up on it and told her:

“Well as much as I hate to admit it, after hearing your childhood story, I have to say that maybe I  _ was _ a little spoiled.”

She laughed and they fell silent again. She found that she wouldn’t mind staying in that position for the next few hours, curled up against him, stroking his hair as his left hand rested on her lower back and his right one traced lazy circles on her thigh. It was pleasant, to feel the warmth of his body so close to her, and the soft caress of his fingertips on her. He tried and failed to restrain a smile by biting his lower lip - Gods, how much sexier could this man get?

“What?” She whispered, as if talking too loud might break the peace around them.

“I’m just thinking about how much I would like to kiss you right now.”

She took a deep breath and her eyes went from his eyes to his lips, and back to his eyes.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

His smile intensified and he brought his lips to hers. It was soft at first, slow, but after a few moments, their kiss deepened, and Feyre felt his hand tighten on her thigh as the other one pressed on her back to get her closer to him. She was glad to oblige, and slid one leg on top of him so that she found herself straddling him, her hands on his hair. He left her thigh to move to her back, and she felt him tugging at her blouse just a bit, and then rest his hands on her bare skin under it. Feeling his skin against hers sent strikes of heat down her core, and she instinctively bit his lip in response. He groaned under her and the sound of his voice had her leaving his hair to rest her hands on his chest. She wanted to feel him, she wanted to let her hands roam through his chest, and have his hands touch her all over. As if he’d read her mind, he slid one arm upper on her back, while his other hand went up her arm and explored the back of her neck. She began to play with the first button of his shirt, wanting to feel his heartbeat beneath her touch. He let out a low laugh at her gesture, and growled her name against her lips. 

Hearing her name coming from him suddenly hit her hard. She started remembering another man who’d said her name in a similar situation, a man she’d loved for so long, a man whose hands had been roaming her back on a similar way less than three months ago. She opened her eyes and retracted her hands from his shirt, feeling ashamed of the way she was sitting on him and letting him touch her. His hands stilled the second he felt their kiss stop, and he looked up at her with concern in his eyes:

“Feyre?”

She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look into those beautiful eyes that had made her stomach flutter for the past week. She got off of him and sat straight on the couch, squeezing her hands between her knees. She felt him move beside her, getting closer but not touching her.

“Feyre, are you feeling okay? Did… Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just … I need to … breathe. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize.”

He advanced his hand towards her arm slowly, but the moment she felt him touch her, she retracted further away. She couldn’t let him this close to her again, not when she felt like she was ready to burst into tears for all the shame and sadness that had taken over her mind. She needed to be alone right now, she wanted to go home and curl up under her covers.

Getting up from the couch, she said: “I’m sorry Rhys, I… I think I’m gonna go home.” She went into the hall, put on her jacket and opened the front door, trying not to look at him. But he followed her to the door and gripped her elbow softly.

“Wait Feyre, what's going on? I’m sorry if I did something wrong, just… tell me, don’t leave without telling me something, please.”

She turned around to face him.

“You didn't do anything wrong, I promise. It’s just… I need to figure some things out, and I just need some time alone.”

He didn't look at all reassured by her explanation, but he let go of her elbow. His answer was barely more than a whisper, and she could feel the hurt in his voice, even if he hid it well:

“Ok. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“No it's fine, thank you.”

And because, despite her need to be alone, she didn’t want to leave him just yet, she reached out to press a light kiss on his cheek and told him “I’ll text you when I’m home” before turning around and racing into the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you gooo ! That was a long one ^^
> 
> Rhys was a bit of a dramaqueen at the beginning, and that was really fun to write ! Let me know what you think about this chapter :) The next one might come a bit later next week, I'm going on a trip for work so I don't know if I'll have time to edit and post it. I'll do my best :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, little early this week because I won’t be able to post it between tomorrow and next Saturday, and since the chapter was ready, I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, it’s a lot shorter but hopefully you’ll like it that way ^^

Startled wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how Rhys felt watching Feyre walk quickly to the end of the street and turn left towards the main avenue. He rose a hand to his cheek, almost burning from where she’d kissed him before leaving him at the door.

He stood in the cold for a moment, unable to stop staring at the spot where she’d disappeared. Only minutes ago, they’d been sharing a passionate kiss on the couch, her hands on his chest and his exploring the skin of her back. His body had gone into a turmoil when she’d started undoing his shirt, and he had been toying with the idea of taking off her bra when she’d suddenly retracted away from him. He closed the front door and went into the kitchen, mindlessly starting to wash the dishes of their earlier meal, but only thinking about Feyre. Despite what she’d said to him, he knew he must have had crossed some sort of boundary for her to react that way. Maybe it had been a small thing that had set her off, maybe it had been that she wasn’t feeling safe with him, maybe she didn’t want to have someone touch her like that. From the very few hints she’d given him, he knew her last relationship had ended in a nasty breakup, but he hadn’t gathered enough to have a clear idea of what had gone on between her and her ex, and how she felt about it now. He could only try to guess what had sent her running away, and he felt awful for it, for not being able to understand and adjust his behavior. For now, all he could do was leave her some space and hope that she wasn’t done with him quite yet. His phone lit up on the kitchen counter and interrupted his train of thoughts, he reached for it to see a text from Feyre.

 

_ Feyre, 00:27 : I just got home. Thank you for a lovely evening. I’m sorry about the way I left, I just needed some time. Talk tomorrow? _

 

He smiled a bit at her text. It didn’t help him understand what he might have done to upset her, but at least she wasn’t shutting him out completely, she seemed ready to still talk to him, if not more.

 

_ 00:29 : Thank you for being a lovely person. And you don’t need to apologize to me for doing what’s best for you. We can talk whenever you want. Sweet dreams, Feyre. _

 

***

 

She had crawled into bed the second she’d gotten into her apartment. Staring at Rhys’ answer, she hesitated for about a minute before deciding to call Alis.

“Feyre?” Her voice sounded sleepy on the other end of the line.

“Hey Alis, I’m sorry to call you this late, I was just hoping we could talk for a while if you don’t mind?”

“Feyre, I told you that you could call me day or night, of course we can talk. What’s up?”

“I… I had a date tonight.”

“Oh?” Alis wasn’t pushing her, she was never pushing her when Feyre called her like that. Sometimes, they would stay on the phone without talking, sometimes Alis would talk about her day in excruciating details, sometimes Feyre would only cry for an hour without giving an explanation. Alis always seemed to know what her friend needed most when she was feeling down. And the bad days felt a bit less awful when she called Alis.

“Do you remember the man I was talking to last week when we met at the pub near Clare’s work?”

“The gorgeous tall dude from the bar? Yeah I remember  _ him _ .”

Feyre chuckled at the description and continued:

“I saw him a few times since then, and I was at his house tonight.” She paused for a few seconds, not really knowing how to put words to describe her reaction. “I didn’t feel well, so I left.”

“What happened? Was he a bit too forward?”

“Oh no Alis, the evening was wonderful. We ate this delicious dinner he’d prepared, and we talked of much more personal stuff that we had before, like our families and all. We actually ended up… making out on his couch for a bit.” She couldn’t suppress the hint of a smile at the memory. The smile was immediately swallowed by a wave of guilt, and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fey-re ! You go on dates with handsome men you meet at pubs, make out with them, and then you wait like a week to tell me about it?” Alis’ tone was being falsely offended, and Feyre laughed softly at her reaction. Alis knew how to make people relax and open up about what was eating them up, and Feyre was no exception. She retorted that she had indeed called the second she got home, and fell quiet again as she was gathering her thoughts.

“It was great honestly, I really like this guy, he’s nice and sweet, and he’s gentle and he’s understanding. I feel good when I’m around him.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s just we were talking and then we started kissing, and I realized how much I enjoyed it, and I wanted more with him. Alis I really want to have sex with him.”

Alis laughed at her answer but then repeated :

“So what’s wrong then? Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know, suddenly I started thinking about… About Tamlin. I mean, we’ve only been apart for a few months, and I know I’m the one who left him, but I still care about him. I think. I mean, when I was kissing Rhys earlier, I wasn’t thinking about Tamlin at all at first, and then it just all came to me, and I felt so bad, I had to leave. ”

“‘Rhys’? Cute name. Anyway, listen to me Feyre. First of all, Tamlin is a piece of shit unworthy of you, who tried to tame your spirits and keep you away from the people you love for  _ a year _ . You know what I think about him, you were right to leave him and in no circumstance should you feel ashamed of your decision. Second, you have no reason whatsoever to feel bad or guilty about wanting this guy. You left Tamlin nearly three months ago now, it’s okay to enjoy yourself with someone else! You wanna sleep with this guy? Sleep with him, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

Feyre laughed. That was such a typical reaction of Alis, making detailed lists for everything, including her friends’ love life.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go that far with him. I like him but…” But sleeping with him would make it real somehow, this connection between them, this attraction and this ease she felt around him. Flirting with him, exchanging quick kisses after lunch, texting with him, that was one thing. Letting him come any closer, talking  to him about her family, and Tamlin, and how she felt about all of it, that was something else completely, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face yet. There were still too many nights when she went to sleep crying, too many mornings when she didn’t want to get out of bed, too many encounters with friends when she felt herself drifting away from the conversation to stare blankly at nothing. Dragging this man into it, this wonderful man that had been only moments of joy and fun since they’d met, dragging him into the mess that was her life, she didn’t know if she was ready for this. She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence, but Alis seemed to understand and said:

“I know it’s hard for you, Feyre, letting people in. You shouldn’t rush into anything if you don’t feel at ease with it, but maybe don’t shut this guy out completely?”

“I know, I don’t want to shut him out. I don’t know what I want.”

They both stayed silent for a moment before Feyre breathed:

“I’ll let you get back to sleep, Alis. Thank you for talking.”

“No problems, Feyre, you know I’m here for you. Try to get some sleep, and call me again if you need to.”

Feyre bid her good night and hung up, turning off her lights to sleep as Alis had suggested. But sleep wasn’t about to come easily tonight.

She’d spent so long trying to move past Tamlin and the way he had acted with her, trying to sort through her mixed feelings of guilt for leaving him so abruptly, and relief at the idea that she was free. She was  _ still _ sorting through all of this, and the way she felt when she saw Rhys certainly didn’t help her clarify her thoughts. Whenever they met, it was as if she was glowing. There was the rush of the discovery, of course, the classic emotions of giddiness and desire present at the beginning of every new relationship. But she couldn’t help but sensing that there was more to it. She’d been able to ignore it fairly easily at first, but tonight, their proximity, the way they’d sat so close they had shared breath, talking about their childhood with no difficulty,... Feyre never spoke about her teenage years to anyone, she didn’t like people seeing her like the poor little fourteen years old girl that had stepped into every business of the town to find work. But she didn’t mind Rhys knowing about her past. And she’d delighted in their kisses too. She could still feel the brush of his hands sliding up her back, of his tongue exploring her mouth softly as she’d ruffled his hair. She could still see how she’d been on the verge of giving in completely to the sensations when her thoughts had made her back away. It wasn’t just the fact that she was attracted to someone else that had made Feyre feel so guilty she’d run out of his house at light speed, it was the fact that she was attracted to  _ him _ in particular. Because she knew it wasn’t just plain physical attraction between them. She knew that if she let herself act on it, it could grow into… something more. And this, more than the simple fact of sleeping with him, felt like a betrayal, somehow.

She fell asleep with that thought in mind, still unsure of how to figure out the mess that was her life currently, but certain that she was not ready to let Rhys slip away from it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT WARNING: There is mention of physical abuse in this chapter!!
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading :)

Grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat off his face, Rhys instinctively reached for his phone, as he’d done incessantly since he’d woken up that morning. She had told him “Talk tomorrow” in her last text, but after the way they’d left things the night before, he wasn’t  sure as to when - and if - she was going to contact him. He wanted to let her come back to him on her own, not wishing to force her into any conversation she wasn’t ready to have.

But he’d still been driven mad by his unringing phone all day, checking it every 40 seconds or so to see if she’d written to him or called him. By late afternoon, he had headed for the gym in the Rainbow, hoping some heavy workout would help him not constantly think about Feyre. It hadn’t worked. He had been at the gym for more than two hours now, working his body to its very limits, and still he thought of her. He hadn’t slept well the night before, his mind drifting between two thoughts: the overwhelming good sensations brought by feeling her body on top of his and the way her hands had tangled in his hair, and the awfully bad memories of her obviously tortured face when she’d jumped away from him all of a sudden. He had finally fallen asleep hours later, and his Saturday had gone by in a blur, in spite of meeting with Azriel in the morning, having lunch and going for a walk with his mother, and now the gym. He didn’t know how long he would be able to go on without hearing from her, knowing if she was okay, if she was mad at him, if there was anything he could do to help her.

He did a last series of exercises before he went to the locker room and stripped down to take a shower. Coming out a few minutes later, he put on his usual tracksuit and hoodie, and was drying his hair when he saw his phone light up.

 

_ Feyre, 21:02: Hey _

 

He smiled at her text, amazed at how such a short and plain message could make him feel so glad.

 

_ 21:03: Hey. How are you? _

_ Feyre, 21:06: Good. Do you have plans for tonight? _

 

If he thought he had been glad before, that was nothing compare to seeing  _ that _ text. Did she want them to meet? That was a good sign, right?

 

_ 21:07 : Free as a bird! _

 

_ And _ in her neighborhood, for that matter. Not that he was going to tell her that right away, he didn’t want her to think he was inviting himself to her place, not when she hadn’t suggested they meet yet. Maybe she just wanted to text or talk on the phone, and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Her next text had him change his mind immediately though.

 

_ Feyre, 21:09: Maybe we could get together if you want? _

_ 21:11: Sure. I’m at the gym, we could meet at the pub from the other night? _

_ Feyre, 21:14: If you’re in the Rainbow, you could come to my apartment, maybe eat something from the Indian place we talked about? _

 

He stared at her text for a few seconds, before answering:

 

_ 21:16: Absolutely. See you in five in front of the restaurant? _

_ Feyre, 21:17: See you there. _

 

***

 

She was pacing in front of the  _ Thangabali _ , trying to control her nervousness. After a sleepless night and an agitated Saturday, she had felt the need to write to him. She had known that after the way she’d left things the night before, she would not feel any better as long as she hadn’t at least talked to him. And now they were meeting to eat at her apartment, after she had blurted out an invitation upon learning that he was in the Rainbow. She passed her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. It was not a big deal, they were just going to sit on her apartment and eat some food, and talk about casual subjects like they’d done before. She didn’t want to even think about the possibility of talking about anything heavier, even though she had decided otherwise that afternoon.

She saw him walking up the street towards her and she stopped pacing to smile at him. He was wearing the same clothes he had the week before, probably his usual outfit after the gym, and he smiled back at her. He got to her fast and they stayed silent for just a second before Feyre reached up to brush her lips on his cheek as a hello. After a short casual conversation, they entered the restaurant to order.

 

Twenty minutes later, she led him up the small staircase beside the restaurant, and stopped on the second floor to open the door. He followed her in, and she felt a tinge of embarrassment when she saw him take in her tiny studio, recalling his gigantic and beautiful house and wondering what he thought of her place. But he only smiled at her, visibly waiting for her invitation to sit on the bed (not that there was any other option). She sat down and patted the spot beside her, watching him set down the takeout boxes between them. They divided up the boxes and started eating in silence. The other times they’d met, she had enjoyed it, how easy it was to stay silent around him, but not tonight. No, tonight she felt like every second she didn’t talk about what she’d decided to tell him, it would become more and more difficult to get it out of her. After a few minutes like that, she finally stopped eating and looked at him.

“I’m sorry about how I acted last night.”

He immediately set down his food and looked at her.

“Feyre, you don’t need to apologize.”

“I do, I really do. I left you with barely an explanation, and I feel really bad about it. So I’m sorry.”

He moved his hand slowly, as if to envelop hers, clearly not wanting to cross any boundary. She grabbed his hand softly, showing him that she was okay with his touch, and he smiled. She continued:

“The thing is, I really enjoyed kissing you last night.”

Color crept up his cheeks but he didn’t talk, only caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, waiting for her to talk.

“I like you... a lot. But I’m not sure of what I want. With you and in my life in general. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it, and last night it all just seemed so intense that I felt a bit overwhelmed.”

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous, Feyre,” he breathed, still caressing her hand on soothing movements, his eyes on her gentle. She took a deep breath and started talking about what she had decided it was time he knew: Tamlin.

“My last relationship ended a little over two months ago. We were together for a year, and it got… ugly.

“We were friends for some time, and I didn’t want to take it any further with him, but I don’t know, after a few months I accepted to go on a date with him and then we started going out. I think I stayed with him at first because for the first time since I was eleven, someone was actually concerned about my wellbeing. And then it just became love. We were dating for two months when he suggested we move in together, and I accepted. He changed after that. No, that’s not true, he didn’t change, I just started to see him as he really was. He became very possessive, he didn’t want me to go out on my own, and when I did, he was constantly calling me and texting me to know where I was, when I was coming home, who was with me,... It became more effort than it was worth so I nearly entirely stopped going out with friends. He was always suggesting we hang out at our house with his friends instead, and I lost touch with most of my friends then. But I thought it was normal. It was my first real and serious relationship so I figured it was normal for him to be scared for me when he wasn’t around. And it felt… good somehow, to have someone take care of me for a change.

“I don’t know when it happened exactly, but after a while, I realized I wasn’t happy like that. I had stopped painting entirely, I never wanted to get out of bed in the mornings so I didn’t get up before lunch most days, and even when I could go out without him knowing, I just… I didn’t have the energy. But I didn’t leave him, because I was in love with him, and when I told him I wasn’t feeling good, he seemed concerned and willing to try to help me. But he never did. I felt sad and lonely all the time. I didn’t talk to my family about it because I didn’t think they would understand. Tamlin - my ex - he helped my father a lot financially, he managed to track down my mother and my parents got back together thanks to him, he paid for Nesta’s last year of school… I thought they were going to tell me I was selfish and ungrateful for not feeling happy with him, so I just stayed.

“One afternoon in mid-August, he told me he had something important to tell me, and we had dinner alone that night. At the end of the night, he… proposed to me.”

Rhys stopped his movement on her hand for a second, before starting again.

“When I saw the ring I knew, I just knew that I couldn’t say yes to him. I didn’t want to leave him because I loved him, but I couldn’t say yes. It just felt like too much, to marry him when I was so sad all the time. A wedding should be a happy occasion, the beginning of a lifetime with that person that you love more than anything, and I was uncertain of everything in my life. I told him that I wasn’t ready to marry him, that I felt like I was drowning, like  _ he _ was the one holding my head under the water. I thought it would be good, talking about it so frankly with him, I thought it might help him realize how bad I was, and how much I needed him to understand. But he got angry, and started screaming at me, asking why I didn’t love him and saying that I had no reason to feel that way. I got up to leave because he was… scaring me, and he…”

She choked on her words, wanting to stop, feeling her eyes starting to burn at the memory. But she needed to say it, she wanted Rhys to know. She looked at him directly and saw his eyes filled with what she thought might be rage, as if he had already understood what she was going to say. But he didn’t interrupt her, and she was glad for it.

“He grabbed my wrists in his hands and pushed me against a glass cabinet we had in the dining room. He kept yelling at me, and he pushed me so hard that… the cabinet shattered in my back and I was covered in glass. My wrists were hurting so much but I couldn’t move, it was like I was frozen. After a moment he… I think he realized what he’d done and he released me, and he started crying and apologizing and telling me that he loved me. But I couldn’t stay. I grabbed my handbag and got out of the house, I called my friend Alis to see if I could crash at her house, she’s one of the only ones I had kept in touch with. I stayed with her and her nephews for two weeks before I found this apartment. I haven’t seen him or talked to him since that night.”

She breathed, feeling sad but relieved that she’d managed to go through that much already. She finished:

“I broke up with him less than three months ago and I don’t… I’m not sure I’m ready to start a new relationship right now. That’s the reason why I didn’t want to give you my number when we met. And that’s the reason I left last night. I’m sorry.”

“Feyre,” he seemed at loss for words, “Feyre don’t apologize, please.”

His voice was soft and warm, and when she gazed into his eyes, Feyre saw sadness there, sadness and anger. He didn’t seem to know what to say, but she didn’t need him to say anything. She felt lighter, as if a weight she hadn’t known she was carrying had lifted from her chest by telling him all of this. She also felt grateful. He had listened to her, not interrupting her and not pressing her with questions now that she was done. He just kept on stroking her hand slowly and watching her with his deep violet eyes, as if assessing how to help her the best he could. She moved her hands into his to interlace theirs fingers, and smiled at him. His answering smile was as faint as her own, and he whispered at last:

“Thank you.”

She chuckled and asked “For what?”

“For according me enough trust to tell me your story,” he said.

Feyre didn’t know what to say to this, she hadn’t really thought about it that way, but she  _ did _ trust him, she realized. She hadn’t talked to anyone about what had happened between her and Tamlin, only Alis the night she’d gone to her house when it had happened. Her family only knew that they had broken up because she wasn’t happy with him anymore, and they hadn’t asked further questions. Feyre smiled a bit more, and slowly bent towards him to brush her lips against his, whispering against them: “Thank you for being someone I can trust with it.” She pressed a featherlight kiss on the corner of his mouth and moved back to grab one of her takeout boxes.

 

*** 

 

At the end of the meal, Feyre had suggested watching a movie. They were now cuddled in the dark in front of her computer, leaning against one another. Rhys was mindlessly tracing circles on her thigh, savoring the feeling of her head settled against his shoulder, her own hand resting on his forearm. He was watching her more than he was watching the movie. Thinking about what she’d told him earlier, he was still a bit shaky, torn between being angry at her clearly abusive ex-boyfriend, and wanting to hold her against him to make her feel better. He hadn’t had words to express how he felt about her tale, anger and sorrow and sadness melting together in his brain. But she hadn’t seemed to mind, giving him the softest of kisses before resuming her eating, more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.

He was still replaying what she’d told him in his head when he heard her breathing getting more even and calm. He smiled and focused his attention on the last twenty minutes of the movie, letting her sleep against him. It seemed so intimate, to be curled up on her bed with her, knowing that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep against his shoulder. It was nothing like the passion that had taken them over the night before, when he’d been willing to get her naked the second she’d dragged her fingers through his hair. This was different, and it felt as good, if not better, as the waves of lust that had overwhelmed him on their date.

When the movie finished, he enjoyed her presence a little while longer before moving swiftly, enough to wake her without startling her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a sleepy but serene expression in her eyes.

“Hey Sleeping Beauty, enjoyed your nap?” He wanted to sound flirty, but the words came out of his mouth much more gentle than expected, and she smiled as she rubbed her eyes.

“I did. You’re very comfy,” she added, and he laughed at that.

“Well I’m glad I could be of help. I’m sorry I woke you, it's just, it's pretty late so I thought I would go home and let you sleep.”

He didn’t want to go home, he wanted to stay with her, and talk to her, and see her smile again. But luckily for him, she seemed to have a similar thought in mind, because she whispered to him, biting her lower lip:

“Or maybe you could… stay?”

He watched her for a moment and, already imagining what it would be like to hold her against him all through the night, he nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO.  
> This morning I went through a literal urge to write, and I wrote THREE WHOLE CHAPTERS YOU GUYS!!! I wanted to share my joy with you, so I’ll share chapter 10 today, and chapter 11 in just a few days (probably Monday or Tuesday according to when I have time to edit it).
> 
> Also, little heads up for Chapter 11, it’s going to be totally nsfw (basically they’ll just “Netflix and Chill” for the whole chapter hahaha), so if you’re not interested in this one, you’ll just be able to skip to chapter 12 and you won't miss anything of the plot.
> 
> Anyway, here we go !! I really hope you enjoy this one because I personally loved writing it :)

It had happened so naturally. She’d woken up against his shoulder, and the proximity of his body had felt so familiar, she hadn’t wanted him to go. And now they were laying under her covers, all the lights out, talking quietly, their fingers intertwined together, squeezing and caressing. They were facing each other, heads rested on the pillows, so close that Feyre was able to breath in his scent of citrus as if it were her own.

“So you  _ actually _ painted over this piece of art your mother had had made?” His voice sounded incredulous and amused at the story of how her mother had realized that Feyre liked to paint only when she had destroyed a very pricey mural on their living-room. Feyre laughed and answered:

“I did. It looked so awful, and it scared me so much every time I’d walk in front of it, one day I just snapped and spent two hours covering it with watercolor. My mother was so mad when she found me, my hands drenched in paint and smiling at her, I think that was the longest I was grounded in my entire life! I didn't go to a birthday party for like two years after that.”

“Oh you little rebel, painting over pricey murals because you don’t like them.”

“Hey, I was five, okay? I didn't analyze the art, I just knew it was creepy and I wanted to change it!”

“You were  _ five?! _ ” He laughed even harder at that comment, and she scowled at him. He continued: “So what did you paint to improve it?”

“I painted the night sky. I covered half the wall with midnight blue and light yellow to create the stars.”

“Why the night sky?”

“I don’t exactly know. I mean, I  _ do  _ know but I was five when it happened so I can’t remember if I chose consciously. I always liked watching the sky, looking up at the stars. It calmed me down when I was a kid and I think painting the sky helped me get over the fright that mural always gave me.”

He stared at her, smiling, for a few seconds, before saying:

“I’m sure the result was beautiful.”

“I don’t think my mom would agree with you!”

They laughed and she said:

“So what about you? Any big punishment in your childhood?”

“Well I wasn’t a rebel at five years old like _some people_ ,” she chuckled, “but when I was fifteen, I was forbidden to go anywhere but at school for a year after I got my tattoos.”

“Wait, you got your tattoos when you were  _ fifteen _ ?”

She had a very hard time believing it.

“Yeah, I got them after an Illyrian ceremony called the Rite. Historically, it’s something every boy did before they were considered a warrior, and it’s still happening today, although now it doesn’t have the same importance as it used to.”

“So what is the Rite? What happens, I mean?”

“You’re lead into the forest with no food or supply, and you have to retrieve one of the Illyrian blades hidden in a secret temple before going back to the camp, and for the Rite to be fully completed, you have to come back in less than a week. You can get the tattoos if you complete the Rite, and the size of your tattoos depends on how long you took to come back. They usually tell the story of your journey as a warrior in the camps, so everyone is unique.”

She was watching said tattoos peering out of his t-shirt, so many questions fusing in her head about Illyrian traditions, but she settled for:

“How long did it take you to come back?”

“Three days. Cassian, Azriel and I found each other the first night and we completed it together.”

“So they also have tattoos?”

“They do. The three of us got tattooed over the summer, it was long and painful so I was glad to do it with them.”

“How long did it take?”

“Six hours every four days, for two months. They were inked with traditional tools so it took… a while. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad so mad as when he saw the ink on me at the end of the summer. He grounded us three for the entire school year, and sent us in different high schools so that we would spend less time together.”

“And your mother? What did she make of it?”

“She acted as if she was mad, but I think that she was happy deep down, to see me embracing her culture that much.”

They fell silent for a full minute after that, their hands still caressing each other, before Feyre whispered:

“Can I… Can I see them?”

He smiled at her and let go of her hand to pull his t-shirt off him and settle it on top of the covers. He turned to her again, and she took in the entirety of his chest, his arms, all of it covered in intricate black design.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, not resisting the urge to trace the lines slowly with her fingers. He went still under her touch, but didn't protest as she ran her hand up his arm and across his shoulder, before laying her palm flat on top of his thundering heart. When she looked up from his chest, she found his eyes on her, and felt herself burning, a low fire, unhurried, satisfied by the feeling of his heartbeat under her touch. For now.

She slid closer to him and brushed her lips against the tattoos on his chest. He seemed to tremble under her palm, and she felt his hand plunge into her hair and clutching softly a handful of them, turning her face to his. He was biting his lip and smiling at her, in a sweet but ravenous look that took away the breath from her. He inclined his head and captured her mouth with his, kissing her very gently as his hand still ruffled her hair. After a while of slow-burning movements, she let her tongue run against his lips, and he opened for her,  deepening their kiss. She felt his hand come down from her hair to stroke her back, and she arched under the touch. She wanted to feel more of him, she wanted to take off the rest of his clothes, she wanted his hands on her bare skin, into her hair. And she wanted to touch him too, to run her fingers on his broad shoulders and down his abdomen, she wanted to explore the entirety of his tattoos, not only with her hand, but with her mouth too. She felt heat creep up her cheeks at this thought only, and laughed into his mouth, imagining his undoubtedly smug expression if he knew what she was thinking of doing to him. He took his lips off her and murmured in a low, playful voice:

“What?”

The interruption helped her calm down a bit. She chewed on her lower lip and just uttered a soft and amused “nothing” before nestling her head on his shoulder. He kissed her temple and settled against her, taking in deep breaths into her hair. She felt her heart slowly go back to a more normal pace, at the same time his did under her palm. They didn’t move, didn’t talk, for a good five minutes, and Feyre was content with just enjoying the warmth of his body for the rest of the night, but she felt his chest rise in rapid movements, as if…

“Why are you laughing?”

His movements stopped immediately, although when she looked at his face, he was clearly fighting off chuckles. She wriggled away to see him better and continued: “What’s going on? Why are you laughing?”

He let out another laugh before answering:

“You really won't tell me?”

“What?”

“What made you stop.”

Her finally calmed heart went mad again, and she blushed. He wasn’t going to let it go.

“Well technically,  _ you _ stopped.”

“Oh, but I stopped only because  _ you _ were laughing, my lady. I’d be glad to take it up again…”

She looked away from his piercing eyes and swallowed before answering his question:

“I laughed because I was thinking of… stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” But his smirk and raised eyebrows said enough about what kind of stuff he knew she had been thinking about. She batted his arm away and frowned at him but didn’t answer, her reaction only making his smirk wider.

“You’re insufferable!” She hissed, before turning her back to him. He barked out a laugh, and a second later, he passed an arm around her waist and she felt his warm breath against her ear.

“Oh I’m sorry, Darling, I’ll try to dial down the insufferable from now on.”

Against her will, she felt herself smile and rest her arm on top of his, settling closer to his front and enjoying this situation way too much. He continued:

“So what do you want to talk about?”

They resumed their conversation in that position, both of them reluctant to move away, and after about half an hour, Feyre felt her eyelids grow heavier at the same time his breathing steadied behind her.

 

***

 

It took Rhys a moment to process his surroundings when he woke up. He didn't open his eyes, but he knew it was still night, and he wasn't in his bed. The world was full of unfamiliar, yet not entirely foreign scents. And his face was buried in… hair. Now that he felt the hair, he started to feel other things too. A warm, smaller body against his chest, his arm laying flat on a stomach that wasn't his own, slim fingers interlaced with his. He opened his eyes slowly and the golden brown sea of hair that surrounded him had his mind invaded by one thought only: Feyre.

They had fallen asleep in that position, he remembered, a thought that had a smile forming on his face. She had wanted to see his tattoos, so he’d taken out his shirt and then they… Oh, he could still feel her hand on his body, he could still feel her  _ lips _ on his chest.... He stopped his thoughts at that. He was sleeping  _ very _ close to her and her feeling him go hard against her back wasn't at all how he wanted her to wake up. He tightened his arm around her and let sleep find him again.

 

***

 

Feyre woke up to the dim October light, warm and cozy under her covers. She smiled as  she felt Rhys’ arm around her waist, his breathing steady on her neck. She lay against him for a few minutes, enjoying the sensation of his solid body beside hers, before slowly moving away from him. He didn’t stir as she sat up and grabbed a sweater to fight off the chill of the morning. With one last look at Rhys’ sleeping face on her bed, she got up, went quickly to the bathroom and then filled up the kettle to make tea. After a few minutes of watching the kettle silently, she heard the bed squeak slightly, and a few footsteps on her direction, before Rhys encircled her with his arms and whispered:

“Hey.”

She turned around in his arms, rested her hands on his chest and kissed him.

“Hey. Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

“Very well. Do you want some tea? Or coffee?”

“Tea would be good, thanks.”

“I don’t have a lot to eat… I can go buy some things if you want,” she said, starting to get out of his embrace to grab some money. He stopped her and sat on the bed to put his shoes and sweater on, as he said:

“Oh no you stay here, I’ll go to the store. What do you think, is bacon and eggs okay with you?”

“Yeah sure.”

“I’ll be right back then,” he said, and he was out the door. Feyre stayed leaning against the counter for a bit, before turning back to her kettle to stop the boiling water. It was strange, the way things were unfolding with Rhys. If she looked at it rationally, everything was happening very fast between them, they had know each other for less than two weeks, and they had just spent an entire night together. The fact that they hadn’t had sex yet didn’t change anything, sex didn’t matter to determine how close they were. She had had adventures in the past, before Tamlin, and she knew very well that she didn’t define the depth of her relationships by how quickly she slept with a guy. No, with Rhys, it seemed that they had a connection, strong and unyielding, something she couldn’t - and maybe didn’t want to - fight against. She was extremely attracted to him, both physically and intellectually, she wanted to open up to him, talk about everything and anything with him. Last night proved it enough. She had talked more freely about her life, and the night with him… sleeping in his arms had felt so simple and intimate, she already missed him. The night before, she had been curled up in her bed, torturing her mind about not acting on this attraction for Rhysand. But now, after their evening and their night together, she felt differently, and maybe, just maybe, she was willing to try and build some kind of … relationship with him.

Rhys came back with eggs and bacon moments later, and they prepared breakfast together, laughing and chatting easily.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay absolutely NSFW chapter!!! I’m really nervous about this one because it’s my first attempt at writing anything “sexy” haha but I hope it’s not too bad!
> 
> It’ll be NSFW until the three *** and then there’s a bit of plot development, so you can avoid the first part if you want to!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts with me, I love every single one of your comments!

 

After they finished breakfast, they started on the dishes. It began quiet, Rhys washing the plates and pans and Feyre drying them to put them away. But when there was only a plate left to wash, Feyre saw a smirk form on Rhysand’s face, and he splashed water on her.

“Hey! What the hell?!”

He barked out a laugh and answered:

“Sorry, it was way too tempting!”

She shoved him, only making him laugh harder. If she was being honest, she could hardly contain her own laugh at the sight of his joyful face. 

“You're adorable, Darling!”

“Shut up,”  she said, shoving him again, but with more of a challenge this time, like she was saying:  _ will you catch me? _

He grabbed her hands softly before she could get away and kept them on his chest. He was watching her with an intensity that made her core tighten, and then his lips were on hers. She answered his kiss immediately, with all the desire that had built up in her during the night. His hands left hers to plunge into her hair, as her own started to move lower, to the limits of his sweater, before sliding under it and roaming across his abdomen. He left her lips and she was left panting as his mouth went to explore the line of her jaw, her ear, her neck. A soft moan escaped her when he nipped at the spot between her neck and her shoulder, and she slipped her hands up his back to get him to understand what she wanted:  _ take off your sweater _ .

And maybe she'd said it out loud, because he laughed in her neck and answered:

“Only if you take off yours…”

His low, sultry voice was all it took for her to stop her exploring, and slowly, very slowly, get her hands away from him to grip the sides of her sweater and pull up until it was over her head and discarded on the floor, along with her t-shirt. All the while, her eyes didn't live his, and only when she was standing in front of him, naked from the waist up, did she step closer to him again, tugging on his clothes. His sweater was quick to join hers on the floor and then his hands were stroking her bare back, and his lips were once again teasing her neck. Feyre grew closer to him, pushing him until he had to sit on the bed, and she straddled him, finding his lips again. He laughed when she started playing with the waistband of his pants, and his mouth started to trace a path straight from her lips to her neck and the middle of her chest. His hands, that had been busy steadying her hips when she'd sat down on him, found their way up and finally,  _ finally _ , grazed against her breasts, upper, his thumbs tracing circles around her nipples. She arched her back at the touch and laid a hand on his heart to push him down on the bed. He lay down immediately, taking her along with him, and she felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to explore her breasts in time with his hands. She instinctively ground against him at the first stroke of tongue against her, and found him as hard as granite under her. The sound that came out of his mouth sent shivers down her spine as she hooked her fingers through his waistband. He abandoned her chest for a second, his hands gently tightening around her back to turn her around and lay her flat on her back. And then he was once again on her, drifting on her neck, her chest, her belly. Feyre was left with enjoying the sensations of his mouth and hands. Not that she minded, she thought as she arched her back again and ruffled his hair, biting her lip to keep herself from moaning as he licked his way closer to where she wanted him. As if he was aware of the urgency that had taken over her, aware and willing to torture her, he  _ slowly  _ gripped the sides of her leggings and slid it down her legs, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her left leg as he went down. Once her leggings were off, he started moving up again, this time kissing her right leg in his path, but always slowly, teasingly, his hands staying chaste on her hips. She looked down and found his eyes watching her, full of lust and joy as he started to kiss his way towards the inside of her thigh. He was still holding her gaze when his fingers gingerly scraped against her core through her underwear, and this time she let a moan escape her as she gripped his hair to have something, anything, to keep her grounded to the world. He chuckled against her hips and she felt his finger gently grab her panties and slide them down, before going up again and finding their way directly to the apex of her thighs. He rolled a thumb against it, as one finger slid slowly into her, stroking her a few times before a second finger joined it. Feyre was going to combust under his touch, and as if he knew it, his thumb stopped playing against her. She was going to protest when his thumb was replaced by his mouth, and she let out a cry of pleasure at the sensation of his tongue on her, licking and sucking in rhythm with his fingers inside her. She stopped caring about being silent, she stopped roaming her hands through his hair, she just lay back under his touch and let him work her up until at last she was on the verge of collapsing. He seemed to sense it and increased his pace until she tightened around his fingers, a powerful orgasm barreling through her body. He slid his fingers out of her but kept on licking and kissing her softly through the last waves of pleasure, and a little more after that. She relished on the sensations for a moment, but as she looked down at him and saw only the top of his head between her legs, one of his broad hands flat on her belly, the other holding her thigh, she wanted more. She wanted  _ him _ , the hardness of him, inside of her. She gingerly reached for his shoulders and pulled on them. He climbed back up her body, laying a kiss here and there on her burning skin, and rested beside her. He seemed content to just lie beside her, but she was having none of it. She could feel how hard he was against her, and the feeling immediately got her ready again. Feyre’s hands traced a path from his thundering heart down his muscled abdomen, and was gripping his tracksuit to take it off him when he stopped her and said:

“We don't have to.”

And he was serious, she could see it in his eyes. He would be content with just having pleasured her if she was to tell him that she didn't want more, that she was tired and fulfilled. She smiled at him and answered, her voice hoarse:

“I know. But I want to.”

His answering smile was enough to make her understand he was certainly okay with  _ that _ . She resumed her taking off his pants, getting rid of his underpants in the process, and keeping her eyes on his, she kissed his jaw, his tattooed chest, his belly, all the way down his body until she took the tip of his length into her mouth. He laid back his head onto the pillows with a groan, and as she licked her way down him, she saw his hand fist the sheets besides her face. Smiling, she reached out to guide his hand to her hair, hoping that would be indication enough of what she wanted. He understood and fisted her hair softly but firmly as she continued to stroke him.

From the noises that were getting out of his mouth, and the way his hand on her hair was tightening its grip, she was honestly surprised he let her go on for nearly a minute before guiding her away from him and back up, to lay on top of him. When her core grazed against his, Feyre thought she might let him slide into her right then and there, but of course there were important matters at hand before she let herself do that. His eyes were blurry and his lips were trembling as he managed to say:

“Do you have a condom?”

His voice sounded so much like a plea, like he might burst into flame if she told him she didn’t. She smiled and nodded, reaching for the drawer in her nightstand and taking one out. They laughed a bit when she didn't manage to open the package and he had to take over, but once he was ready, they stopped laughing, the unrelenting desire taking over again. Rhys’ hands cupped her face to kiss her deeply, and she reached down, slowly taking him inside her body. They stopped shifting when he was entirely in her, and the look they shared was nearly enough to send Feyre over the edge again. They started to move again together, and he moaned under her, his hands roaming every inch of her body they could reach, her face, her breasts, her thighs, her back, as if he could not explore enough of her. Or maybe it was her, unable to stop herself from caressing his chest and arms and beautiful face. As she rode him, Feyre felt her release build up again, fast. Rhys was jerking his hips up from under her, but she stopped him with a frantic whisper in his ear “wait… just... don’t move.” She felt him go still under her, only his fingers caressing her thighs as she moved her hips just right and shattered atop him. When she opened her eyes, still going through the waves of pleasure, she found him looking at her, a faint smile on his lips and his eyes filled with awe and desire. She rolled her hips and gave him a sweet and suggestive smile, as if to say  _ you can go on now. _ He understood immediately and pounded into her, sliding his hands on her back to hold her against his chest. He came moments later with her name on his lips, and they were left panting, their bodies covered in sweat. Feyre could feel his hectic heart against her, and she traced her fingers on it softly. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a minute, before he murmured in her ear:

“As little as I want to move, maybe we should… the condom...”

“Oh you’re right!” She blurted, slowly letting go of him to lie down beside him. He took off the condom and rose enough to throw it in the bin, before coming back to her and interlacing his fingers with hers. Feyre looked into his eyes and she felt heat creep up her cheeks what she found in them. She was  _ blushing _ , and she wanted to slap herself at the thought. They had just slept together, he had seen and touched every inch of her, and a look at his  _ eyes _ was what made her blush? But a similar shade of color appeared in his cheeks, and he smiled and said:

“Well that… escalated quickly.” 

She let out a laugh and moved closer to him to enjoy the warmth of his body against the cold of the morning. Rhys wrapped her in his arm and rested his chin on the top of her head. She let her heart calm down completely before saying:

“Maybe we could move under the covers? I'm a bit cold.”

They resumed their idle touches on each other once they were in bed, not talking, but not feeling uncomfortable. Silence had never been uneasy between them, and it wasn't uneasy now either. They spent a large portion of the morning lying in bed, talking and touching and sometimes drifting off to sleep again. After their talk the previous evening, after sleeping in his embrace all night, and now after their early-morning tumble in the sheets, Feyre felt good and peaceful, and she didn't want to get up and let real life take over.

 

***

 

Rhysand watched her sleep in his arm for a moment before he too closed his eyes again. She was… he didn't want to think about the word “perfect,” it was probably too strong a word to describe someone, but she was certainly near perfect, her beautiful body at ease against him. He watched her chest go up and down as she breathed and resisted the urge to caress her body again, afraid it would wake her up. He would stay in bed all day if she wanted him to, he didn't mind spending his Sunday talking to her, and looking at her, and touching her.

She stirred against him and opened her eyes to look at him, a lazy smile on her lips.

“Hey you,”she said in a low, sleepy voice as she cupped his face to kiss him. He answered her kiss and placed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey Darling. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah. I wish we could stay like that all day.”

“We don't have to get up, you know.”

“I do. I have a meeting at noon.”

“At noon? Feyre, it's almost 11:30.”

“What?! Oh shit!”

She jerked upright and got out of bed, lounging for her closet to get clothes. Rhys watched her slip on black undies and an assorted bra, and drank in the sight of her body, beautiful in only her underwear, before getting out of bed himself. She was completely dressed and brushing her teeth in less time than he took to put on his own clothes. He found his shoes and grabbed his gym bag, ready to leave when she would go out. While she  brushed her hair and arranged it in a ponytail, he asked:

“What is this meeting you’re going to?”

“Remember the guy I met at the work gathering last week? The one with the project of doing an illustrated special edition of his series of books that was considering me?”

“Yeah I remember.”

Feyre left the bathroom, grabbed a pair of cream flat shoes, put them on, and started going through her shelves.

“Well he's in town today and wanted to see some of my ideas. He's leaving for New York in a few hours and he told me to meet him for lunch with my drawings so that we could talk and see if he would consider me further for his project. I can't find my… Oh thank the Gods, here it is!” She finished, pulling a drawing tablet out of her mess and packing it in her bag. Standing by the door, looking at her, breathing quickly, cheeks flushed, Rhys couldn't help but want to kiss her deeply and get her once again naked on the bed. But  _ obviously _ , they had to go now, and he opened the door, holding her keys for her. She got out, waited for him to exit and closed frantically the door behind them.

In less than five minutes, they had gone from naked and kissing, to standing on the street, waving a taxi for her. He looked at her, and at the panicked expression on her face, he didn't resist any longer. He cupped her cheeks gently and forced her to look at him.

“Hey Feyre, calm down. You have plenty of time, you have your drawings with you, you don't look  _ at all  _ as if you'd just gotten out of bed. It's gonna be great, I'm sure he's gonna love your ideas.”

That wasn't an exaggeration. From the different works she'd shown him, she had a very unique and interesting style. He was no expert of course, but he'd been fascinated by her use of colors in both landscapes and human faces, and had no doubt the guy she was meeting would not hesitate in working with her. She held his gaze and seemed to relax. 

“Thank you Rhys. I'm sorry we had to get up in such a hurry…”

“Hey no problem. Here's a cab.”

He opened the door for her and Feyre was about to enter, but she turned towards him and kissed him. Sensing her lips on him sent shivers down his spine and he didn't resist pulling her closer, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He got lost in the feeling of her body against his, and when she let go of him, he opened her eyes to find her looking at him with longing in her eyes. She took a deep breath and whispered:

“Right. I gotta go.”

“Right.”

“I'll call you.”

And with a last kiss on his lips, she got into the taxi.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Here is chapter 12, I hope you enjoy it, I tried something a little bit different with the point of views, you’ll see ^^  
> little announcement, I WON’T be updating until September 24th because I’m going on vacation and won’t have my computer with me. Chapter 13 is nearly finished though, so I’ll update for sure on the 24th! I’ll still be active on tumblr if you want to talk to me ( my blog is “No Matter The Oceans” and I would be thrilled if you came down there :D)  
> As always, thank you so so much for commenting and letting me know what you think! It means a lot :)

Rhysand and Cassian were seated at their usual table in the familiar diner, waiting for the waitress to bring their order. Cassian had just got home from four months in the mountains, meeting with the different Illyrian clans, and he'd called Rhys that morning, telling him to meet him at the diner for lunch, not leaving him much of a choice. Not that Rhys minded. He was glad for the opportunity to finally catch up with his brother after spending that long apart.

They had seen each other on Thursday when Mor had convinced them all - Azriel finally agreeing to her endless pleas - to go to Rita’s to celebrate his return, but a nightclub wasn't exactly a good place to talk. Cassian had been eager to claim the dance floor and had rapidly found many dance partners to enjoy his night. Although he hadn't gone home with any of them, him and his friends hadn't really taken the time for an actual conversation that night.

“So, how was your trip?” Rhys started, taking a sip of his soda.

“Good. I moved around about once a week at first, but then I kind of stayed at our old camp most days, helping the kids usually.”

“Is everything good with Devlon?”

“As good as it can be, I guess. You know how he is when I'm around. But the girls have regular access to the library apparently, even participating in sports practice, so those are good points.”

They were. A few years back, when Rhys had been given the opportunity to take the lead on various projects for his father's company, he'd decided to finance the construction of libraries and community centers for the Illyrian clans. The projects hadn't cost a dime to the clans, on the condition that women be given illimited access to those structures. The girls went to school just as the boys did, because the national laws forbade the clans from withholding education from any child regardless of gender, but they were still denied access to plenty in the mountains. Rhysand had grown up hearing the stories about his mother's childhood, and had witnessed first hand the Illyrian misogyny when living with them. Now that he had an actual opportunity at influencing the way they treated women, he was careful to do it as best he could. After months of relentless negotiations with his father and the differents chiefs of the clans, he had managed to obtain for the company to finance the entire project, and in return, the chiefs had promised to grant unrestricted access to the facilities to every member of their communities, women included. The “unrestricted” part wasn't exactly a given for all of the chiefs, as they considered women inferior - just thinking the word made Rhys cringe - and educating them a waste of time.

So Cassian had spent his summer traveling from one clan to another. In some, supervising the construction process, in others, making sure that the chiefs respected their end of the bargain. Hopefully, with time, the situation would get better and they wouldn’t need to check in that often.

“I was at the camp for the Rite. It seems easier than when we did it.”

“How so?”

“Well, there was less teens participating this year, but more of them managed to complete it. The camp looked like a tattoo convention the rest of the summer!”

Rhys couldn't help his laugh. His brother could be very competitive, he had always been that way and that had led to many fights during their teenage years. Seeing young men doing better than he had, at something he was so proud about, had probably been excruciating for him, and Rhys was certain his brother had likely wished he could participate again just to prove to teenage boys he was still better than them.

“Oh I’m sure it’s really easy now, I mean it stayed the same for hundreds of years, but they obviously decreased the level of difficulty in the last ten years.”

Cassian picked up on his sarcastic tone and kicked him under the table.

“Oh you talk like you would have been able to finish the Rite alone, in your fancy clothes and with your mother watching your every move.”

It was a running joke between them, a reminder of the year they'd met, when Rhys had stood out from the crowd of Illyrian kids. He had adapted pretty quickly, and his mother hadn't been around at the time of their Rite, but Cassian had never stopped teasing him, even twenty years later.

“Oh like  _ you  _ would have!”

Cassian laughed and Rhys continued:

“Did you help with the tattoos this year?”

“I did, and it was pretty cool, I got to ink an entire arm myself and…”

But Rhys had stopped listening. A flash of violet caught his eyes in the street, capturing his attention immediately. It was his violet hat, on the head of the beautiful woman that barely left his thoughts those days. He got up and said quickly:

“Hang on, I'll be right back.”

And he was out the door before Cassian could answer.

Feyre was indeed on the sidewalk in front of the diner, headphones on, her back to him. He caught up to her and grabbed her shoulder when she didn't hear him call her name. She startled and turned to him, her blue-grey eyes wide for a millisecond before she recognized him.

“Rhys! Hi!”

“Hi. What are you doing here?” He couldn't force the smile out of his face at seeing her so unexpectedly. She seemed happy too, her cheeks flushed with colors and a broad smile on her lips.

“I have a meeting in the area in twenty minutes. I was looking for a cafe to kill the time until then. You?”

“I'm having lunch with Cassian,” he said, turning quickly towards the diner to find his brother smirking at him through the window. Rolling his eyes at him, Rhys turned back to Feyre and blurted out: “do you wanna join us?”

Her smile faded and she said:

“You want me to… meet your brother?”

Rhys could feel Cassian’s grin on his back, he could almost feel his brain sorting through the most embarrassing stories he could tell about Rhys, if he dared bring Feyre inside the diner. But he didn't care. He liked that woman so much that he really wanted her to meet his family. Maybe it would have been in another context if he’d had the choice, but he really didn't mind all the hard time Cass could give him if it meant Feyre got to meet him.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. Cassian can be a lot to take in, if you want some peace and quiet before your meeting, I understand.”

“He's the guy staring at us in the diner, isn't he?”

“Yep!”

She laughed and nodded, looking at him again. Her tongue run slowly on her lips and he realized he hadn't even kissed her yet.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?

She raised an eyebrow and said in a very serious tone:

“I don't know Rhys, I mean, we only had  _ sex _ yesterday, I don't know if we're there ye…”

He cut her off with his mouth and felt her chuckle against him before returning his kiss.

“Shall we go in, my Lady?”

“After you, Sir.”

 

***

 

When Rhys had left in the middle of his fantastic tattoo story, Cassian had strongly debated going after him to drag him back at the table. But then he'd seen him go up to a woman passing in front of the diner, and she'd smiled at his brother. A broad, happy smile, and Rhys had the same one on his face. Cassian snorted and didn't take his eyes off them. So  _ that _ was the girl Mor had told him about, the one he'd met not long ago and was reluctant to talk about but was clearly infatuated with. Rhys turned to him and Cassian couldn't help but smirk at him, laughing when his brother rolled his eyes at him and turned back to the woman. She was pretty enough, and the way she looked at Rhys said enough about what she thought of him. He had to bring her inside, oh  _ please  _ let him bring her inside to seat with them. Cassian was imagining the best way to tell the story of how Rhys had once drunk-texted their high school biology teacher while believing he was talking to his girlfriend, when he saw him kiss the woman and take her hand to guide her towards the diner. Oh, that was going to be  _ fun _ .

They entered the diner and Rhys led the way to their table, the woman sliding in the booth beside him and smiling a bit shyly at Cassian.

“Cass, this is Feyre. Feyre, my brother Cassian,” Rhys said, glaring at him as if to say  _ “don't you dare be rude to her” _ . He answered with an offended look and smiled at the woman - Feyre.

“So you're the girl I've heard so much about?”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “I don't know. Why don't you tell me what you heard and I'll tell you if that's me.”

Oh she had some fire, that one.

“I was told you were very interesting and very pretty. Does that seem like it could be you?”

She blushed and turned to Rhys, whose murderous eyes were fixed on Cassian, and said to him:

“Well I certainly hope so.”

His brother slid an arm around her shoulder, smiling but his eyes still on Cassian as he said:

“It is, although I don't recall telling  _ you _ any of it. And I’m going to kill Mor.”

“What did you expect? That you could tell her something personal and we wouldn't know about it a minute later? Come on, you know her better than that, Rhys.”

His brother shook his head and was about to answer when the waitress arrived with two giant burgers, and two orders of fries.

“There you go. Do you need anything else?”

Rhys turned his attention to Feyre and asked her in a somewhat softer voice if she wanted something, but she refused, saying she had to go in ten minutes and had already eaten. Cassian started eating right away, and asked between two mouthfuls:

“So Feyre, Mor told me you're an illustrator, huh?”

“I am. And what do  _ you _ do when you're not eating cheeseburgers like you haven't eaten in days?”

“I'll have you know that I indeed have not had a decent burger in months, and that’s entirely your dear Rhysand’s fault.”

“How is it my fault?” He countered before she could say anything, “Did I force you to spend the entire summer there? You were allowed to come back now and then you know.”

Feyre started eating some fries from Rhys’ plate, and his brother didn't flinch at the gesture, as if he had grown accustomed enough to her presence to not realize when she touched his food. Mor hadn't been able to tell him how close they were, because she hadn't met Feyre. But it was clear enough that they were very comfortable around each other, and Cassian couldn't help but wonder how much his brother had omitted to tell Mor.

“I still don't know what you do, by the way,” Feyre said to him. He tried to swallow fast to answer, but Rhys took over. 

“Cassian works for my father's company, he's in charge of overseeing various projects, and he spent the summer in the Illyrian camps to check the progress on the project I told you about on Saturday.”

So he'd told her about his father, about the Illyrians, about the project that was most important to him. That was a lot of information to trust her with, especially for Rhys, who was always so secretive around new people.

“The libraries and community centers? That’s interesting,” and turning to him, she continued. “You must have had a good time then if you stayed there for so long without coming back?”

“Well, as I was telling Rhys before you  _ grossly  _ interrupted me by distracting him, I did enjoy myself helping with the tattoos.”

He was about to continue but he saw Feyre’s face crumble and she said softly “I’m sorry.” He didn't know if he should go on. He had clearly made a joke about her interrupting them, and he thought she would just answer as she’d done before. But she bit her lip and seemed to shrink back into the booth. He saw his brother’s face contorted in what looked like sadness, but it was gone in a second and when he opened his mouth, his voice was anything but sad:

“Oh don’t listen to him, Darling, he would have bored my mind out with his stories if I hadn’t spotted you.”

That seemed to help her relax a bit and she smiled. The look Rhys gave her was gentle. Still arrogant, still Rhys, but gentle and understanding. Cassian made a mental note to ask Rhys later about what had just happened, but resumed talking, hoping that a radical change of subject would help her. And knowing it would certainly help  _ him  _ in his project to embarrass his brother:

“Oh you don’t like this story Rhys? Maybe I should tell another one then? Something older. Did you tell Feyre a lot of anecdotes from when we were in high school?”

His brother threw him a warning glare, but didn’t answer. It was Feyre who said :

“Some stories, but I don’t think I’ve heard all of them.”

“Oh I’m sure you haven’t heard this one, don’t worry.” Rhys’ eyes had turned murderous now, he knew what Cassian was about to tell her. But there was something else too, his lips were pressed as if to restrain from… smiling? Cassian shook off the feeling and started:

“Well you see, when we were juniors, Rhys dated this girl for a few months at the end of the year and during the summer. And a few weeks before the end of term, we threw this party and got pretty hammered. And Rhys’ girlfriend wasn’t here, but he wanted to talk to her, so….”

Feyre cut him off with “Oh wait I think I know this one!” He frowned.

“No I …. don’t think you do.”

“No but I do! He was so drunk he didn’t realize he was texting your biology teacher an not his girlfriend! Yeah, Rhys told it to me the other night. That’s a pretty good one!”

Cassian didn’t have words. Beside Feyre, Rhys was grinning at him, his arm pulling her closer to him. He had told her about his most shameful highschool memory. And he had known that Cassian was going to go for this one in the hope of embarrassing him, that’s why he had wanted to smile. Oh the bastard.

“I’m sure we can find some other embarrassing story about Rhys that he didn’t tell you.”

She laughed and said “I’m sure you could. But I have to go or I’m gonna be late for my meeting.”

She took a sip of Rhys’ soda and got up, saying to Cassian “It was nice meeting you,” before leaning down to kiss his brother and said “See you.”

He kissed her back and watched her exit the diner, not taking his eyes off her until she was out of sight.

 

***

 

“You are so smitten.”

Cassian’s words brought him back to reality. Rhys turned his eyes away from the door and found his brother grinning at him.

“What?”

“Oh you heard me, loverboy. Or were you trying to be subtle?” 

Rhys sighed and took a bite of his burger to avoid answering his brother. He had wanted her to join them, and he didn’t regret it, but he would have liked to avoid his brother’s interrogation afterwards. Knowing it was coming didn’t make it more pleasant.

“She seems nice. How did you meet?”

“Mor didn’t tell you that?”

“Well she told me you met her at a pub, but she didn’t know much else except that you’d gone on a date with her. She also said you were annoyingly joyful when you talked about her, and after seeing you two together, I have to agree. You’re annoying when you’re in love.”

“I’m not  _ in love _ , I met her two weeks ago.”

“All right maybe you’re not in love per say, but you’re still extremely giddy. It’s irritating.”

“I was waiting for Mor, and Feyre was waiting for some friends. We had a good talk for like an hour and then we exchanged numbers. That's how we met.”

“Come on man, give me details! You met this woman two weeks ago and she seems to know everything about you. I'm just saying you're not usually that open with new people.”

Rhys couldn’t help his smile. “Are you mad because you didn't get to tell her about me texting Mrs Calloway?”

“Okay first of all, you  _ know _ how much I love to tell it to people, I'm pretty sure you told her just to piss me off. And second, I'm not mad, I'm just saying it's unusual.”

“It's just… I don't know, I connect with her. I can't explain it, honestly. When I'm with her, everything is easy.”

Cassian smiled at him, and it wasn't a mocking smile this time, it was genuine.

“Good then, I'm happy you feel like that. And she seems nice, really.”

Rhys smiled back at his brother and dove into his food eagerly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back from vacation you guys !! So here’s chapter 13, finally ! I hope you like it, I myself rather enjoyed writing it :)  
> On an unrelated note, I wrote a one-shot set between acotar and acomaf from Rhys POV. It’s kind of free-writing, but I’m happy with the result so I’ve decided to post it. It’ll be up shortly after I post this chapter if you want to check it out.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting, I love every single one of your comments!

Cassian knocked on the door but didn't wait for an answer before he entered Mor’s apartment. He found her seated on the floor of her living room with Azriel, a game of chess between them. They didn't turn to him when he approached and sat on the coach behind Mor, too focused on their game to bother acknowledging his presence. Cassian watched them in silence for a few minutes and then started talking:

“When are you guys going to be done? We can't play chess if we're three people and I'm bored.”

Azriel snorted and, moving one of his rooks to take Morrigan’s bishop, answered: “I'm winning, we should be done in about two to four minutes now, depending on how fast Mor plays.” 

She shoved him at his remark, and took her time for her next move. But Azriel had been right of course, and he said “chessmate” about three minutes later. He got up from the floor to sit in one of the armchairs, but Mor stayed on her carpet and simply laid her back against Cassian’s legs. She looked up at him and said:

“I’m pretty sure I lost because of you.”

“What did I do?”

She looked at the bag he’d left on the kitchen table and said: “There’s food in that bag, it smells good and I’m hungry. You distracted my stomach, and therefore, I couldn’t win.”

At the mention of food, Azriel had gotten up and was now opening the bag to pass them boxes. “Don’t find excuses Mor, I’m better than you, you need to accept it.”

She snarled but accepted the box he was handing to her, opening it eagerly.

“Chinese food! Thank you Cass.”

“Where did you get it?” Azriel asked, sitting back on the chair and diving into his own dinner.

“It’s Thursday night, where do you think I got it?”

“You’re unbelievable. The fact that they made a ‘3 for 2’ deal on Thursday nights doesn’t mean we have to eat there  _ every _ Thursday, Cass.”

He brushed of his brother’s remark and started eating too. Mor turned on the TV and started browsing to find the movie she had been talking about all week, but Azriel said:

“Shouldn’t we wait for Rhys to arrive if you want to watch this one? I thought he wanted to see it too.”

“Oh he does, but he was ‘busy’ tonight. I’m guessing he’s on a date with his mystery girlfriend no one is allowed to meet, so I figured if he’s getting laid instead of hanging out with us, he can watch the movie with her.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “You could have told us, I wouldn’t have bought food for four.”

“But that way I couldn't have eaten what you were bringing for him!”

“Will you pay for his part then?”

She gave him her puppy eyes and he sighed, “Why am I not surprised? Anyway, I don't think we’re not allowed to meet her, she joined me and Rhys for lunch on Monday.”

Mor paused the opening credits of the movie and turned to him.

“What? You met her? When he  _ refused _ to tell me where they were going on their date because, and I quote, ’he didn’t want me interrupting’?”

“It wasn’t like that Mor, she just happened to pass by and he invited her to join us. She stayed like five minutes and then she had to leave for a meeting. It’s not like you barging in on their date, which is something you  _ have _ done in the past.”

She sat beside him and took the box from his hand. He snatched it back immediately.

“Oh no, Mor, we can talk about Rhys all you want but you are  _ not _ depriving me of food.”

“So tell me, how is she?”

Azriel sighed from his chair and said: “So I guess we're not going to watch the movie then.” He seemed exasperated but leaned towards them nonetheless, clearly not wanting to lose any juicy information.

“She’s pretty enough. She’s almost as tall as him, she has brown hair and... not exactly blue eyes, they’re kind of grey, but they’re beautiful. She has a cute smile, and she certainly has some backbone. She seems to have a good sense of humor. She was going to a meeting for work so she didn’t stay long though.”

Mor was grinning: “Finally, I get to hear something more than ‘she’s beautiful, will you leave it alone?’. What did you talk about?”

“I don't know, basic stuff? My summer in the camps, mostly. Oh yeah, she knows that Rhys’ father owns the company, and he told her about what I was doing in the camps.”

Azriel had been quiet until then but he raised an eyebrow at that and said:

“He told her about his father? And the camps? How long has he known her for?”

“Two weeks or so, I thought it was strange too. He usually doesn’t open up like that to people.”

“Oh and did he seem like over the top joyful when he was with her?” Mor weighed in, “Because every time he talked about her he had this sweet expression I hadn’t seen on him in ages!”

“He did actually. But it was nice, seeing him like that. He seems to really like her, and I don’t know her, but she seemed to really like him too. This might be the start of something.”

“Then we’ll have to meet her soon enough, won’t we? I can’t wait!”

“Don’t do anything stupid Mor. You know he won’t like that,” said Azriel, and he added: “Can we watch the movie now?”

 

***

 

Rhys went into the kitchen to grab two more beers, and Feyre, seated on the coach, enjoyed the view of his broad back as he moved around the kitchen. They had spent the previous night at her place, and he'd slept there - although “slept” might be exaggerated to talk about their heated night together. Tonight, they were enjoying their Friday evening at his house with pizzas, beers and a movie. She was wearing a short but comfortable woolen dress, and was curled up on the couch with a slice of pizza in her hand. She smiled at his back, marveling at how easy they had slipped into this strange dynamic between them. She wasn't sure she was ready to call him her boyfriend yet, but with every minute spent in his company, she had less and less doubts about wanting  _ something _ with him. He was nice and considerate, never pushing her into anything she wasn't comfortable talking about. And the sex… Gods, it was incredible. She couldn't seem to get enough of him. Every time they touched,  she wanted more, more, more. They had barely slept the night before, both craving so much of the other that they had been incapable of restraining it, and she had spent her day exhausted, nearly falling asleep at her desk.

He came back to her, handing her a bottle before cuddling against her and pressing play on the movie. The night before, full of hungry desire, had been amazing. But this was a different kind of intimacy, the one she'd been afraid of the week before, but was now craving for, even more than their lovemaking. He bent down to grab a piece of pizza and pressed a soft kiss to her temple before leaning back against her. They watched the movie in near silence, Feyre simply enjoying the warmth of his body against her, but after a while, she started drawing lazy circles on his thigh. She felt more than she saw a smile forming on his lips, but he didn't move, as if he'd barely felt her. She didn't back down though, and brought her lips to his face, placing the smallest of kisses on his neck, his jaw, the shell of his ear. Meanwhile, her fingers moved upper on his thigh, brushing against his core but not quite touching him. She felt him shiver, but still he didn't touch her. Only when she slipped a hand under his shirt and began to caress his abdomen, did he talk. She knew he wanted to keep his voice calm and steady, but it came out hoarse instead.

“Don’t you want to watch the movie?”

She whispered in his ear as she pushed his shirt upper: “There are other things I’d like to do first.”

“You wicked, beautiful woman,” but he finally turned his face to her to kiss her fully. She sighed and tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. He obliged her and discarded it on the floor in seconds. Feyre went to sat on top of him, but he wasn’t having it. “Not this time, Darling,” he murmured against her neck, laying her down on the couch. He had a mischievous smile on his face and when he lowered on top of her, he didn’t go to her mouth, his lips finding her collarbone, his hands exploring her calves, the back of her knees, the insides of her thighs, always moving closer to where she wanted him.  She was on her way to removing his belt when the doorbell rang. Rhys froze, and she was about to rise up when he resumed his kisses on her.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” She asked feebly, barely aware of anything that wasn’t his lips slowly moving towards her breast, that wasn’t his fingertips caressing her legs. He mumbled a sound that was probably a “no” against her skin, and she couldn’t stop the laugh that came out of her. The doorbell resonated again but neither of them made a move to get up, until a different sound came from the entry hall, as if someone was inserting a key in the door. Rhys rose and looked towards the hall.

“I’m going to kill her,” he said before getting off Feyre and moving towards the door. She sat straight on the couch, trying to calm her raging heart and to arrange her dress a bit. Rhys opened the door and said sharply to whoever was there:

“What do you want?”

“Hi! You have a problem with your doorbell,” said a female voice, “I tried twice but you didn’t answer so I just used my spare key.”

“I don’t have a problem with my doorbell Mor, I just didn’t answer.” Mor, his cousin Morrigan then.

“Why didn’t you answer me? And why are you half nak…” she stopped mid-sentence and lowered her voice, though not enough because Feyre still heard her say : “You’re not alone, are you?”

Rhys sighed but Feyre laughed and started to get up. He’d told her his cousin had been insisting to meet her, but barging in that way was certainly a radical move. She tucked her hair behind her ears and walked into the hallway, finding Rhys standing at the door in front of a very beautiful woman who seemed to be about his age. She was rather small, with long golden hair and deep brown eyes. The smile she gave Feyre was radiant, and she pushed his cousin aside to walk towards her, and hug her. Feyre started, surprised at the unexpected familiarity of the gesture, but smiled and answered her hug. Behind them, she saw Rhys roll his eyes and close the front door. Apparently, Mor was going to stay.

 

***

 

He watched his cousin finally release Feyre from her embrace and take a step back to look at her. Feyre was still flushed from their little make-out session on the couch, her hair disheveled and her cheeks slightly pink. But then again, seeing as he had opened the door half-naked, there was no point denying what they had been doing.

“You're Feyre, right? I'm so glad to finally meet you! I'm Mor, Rhysand’s cousin, I don't know if he told you about me?”

“He did, it's really nice to meet you too,” Feyre answered, a gorgeous smile on her face. He  _ was _ going to kill Mor for interrupting them.

“You know Mor, it's usually good manners to warn someone before coming into their home at night. If you wanted to meet Feyre so badly, you could've asked.”

She turned to him and grinned.

“You know asking for permission is against my beliefs! Besides, I didn't know you weren't alone.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and she laughed.

“I swear! I was coming to see if you wanted to have dinner together, and then meet up with Cass to go to Rita’s.”

“Well we have pizza if you want some,” Feyre said, inviting Mor into his living room. He followed them, picked up his shirt from the floor, and was fully clothed once more when he sat beside Feyre on the couch, Mor on the other side of her. His cousin had already grabbed a piece of pizza and started showering Feyre with questions. Not that she seemed to mind, she was leaning against him and smiling at his cousin, answering her eager questions with ease. He settled for watching them talk, incapable of restraining a grin.

“So Feyre. Rhys told me you’re an illustrator? What does that mean? What do you do?”

“Well mainly I work on book covers, I read the manuscript, run some ideas with the author and the editor, and work from there. I sometimes have bigger projects, like illustrated editions, that kind of work. But it’s mainly covers.”

“That’s interesting! How long have you been doing it?”

“For nearly three years now.”

“You started young! You’re 23 right?”

“Yes, I had a job as a waitress for a few years but it wasn’t really what I wanted to do with my life, so I seized the opportunity to change when I saw it.”

“Good. And where are you from? Velaris?”

“No, I grew up in Springfield, it’s a small town south of Velaris, you probably don’t know it. My parents still live there.”

“I grew up here in Velaris. We all did. Well I mean, if you don’t count the boys’ yearly trips to the countryside.”

They kept on chattering, and Rhys didn’t interfere, enjoying looking at them interact with such ease. He could have stayed that way for the whole evening, not caring that Mor had interrupted them when she’d arrived. But she had other plans, because after about forty minutes of questions and laughter, she looked at him and said to Feyre:

“So what do you guys say? Rita’s tonight?”

He felt Feyre stiffen slightly against him, and her smile faltered just a bit. Mor didn’t seem to notice it, but he’d started to know her enough to register these changes in her. She didn’t want to go, but she probably didn’t want to disappoint Mor. Now, he didn’t want to go either, he had never been a big fan of clubs, and he wanted to spend the evening here with Feyre. But she started to look a bit like she had the week before, when she’d ran away from his home all of a sudden. And that wasn’t something he wanted her to go through again.

“Actually Mor, we sort of had plans.”

“What? Watch TV and make out? You can do that some other night, but karaoke night at Rita's is only once a month!”

But Feyre seemed to relax a bit when he declined the offer, and he thought maybe by saying no, she hadn't been afraid of disappointing Mor, but disappointing him.

“Actually, I'd really prefer to stay in too. You can stay with us if you want. We still have plenty of pizza and beer, and we'd just started the movie.”

Her third piece of pizza in hand, Mor seemed to consider for a half second before agreeing. Feyre looked at him and warmth flooded his heart when he read the gratitude on her face. He didn't resist kissing her quickly and holding her against him during the rest of the movie.

 

***

 

Mor left them three hours later to join Cassian at the club. Rhys had practically pushed her out the door but Feyre hadn't been able to resist chatting with her by the front door for an extra ten minutes. Mor was extremely lively, always smiling, talking, laughing. She and Rhys had seemed to get along really well, and they'd spent the whole movie whispering sarcastic comments to each other. After the movie, they'd moved into the kitchen and Rhys had mostly let them talk together, as it seemed that Mor wanted to ask Feyre every possible question about her life. So it was nearly one in the morning now, and after Mor waved at her and got in the taxi, Feyre closed the front door and found Rhys leaning against the wall, staring at her with the barest smile on his lips. She smile back and said:

“I'm sorry, I talked a lot with her, I hope you don't feel too left out?”

“Left out? Feyre I'm glad. I love seeing you two getting along so well.”

She restrained from biting her lower lip at that. The idea that he was glad about her meeting his family… It was unsettling, but in a good way. She advanced towards him and grabbed his hands, stood up on her toes and kiss him gently.

“I really like it too, Rhys.” She felt him smile against her lips and answer her kiss. They broke apart after moment later, and when she opened her eyes, she found him looking at her, as if he was studying her.

“What?”

“Nothing, I… are you ok? I know Mor was a bit insisting about going out with them.”

“I'm fine Rhys, I mean, I'm the one who should be sorry. I would have liked to spend time with your family tonight, but I was a bit… overwhelmed by the idea. Sometimes I just don't have the energy to cope with too much noise and too much people.”

“No it's fine. You shouldn't force yourself into situations you're not comfortable with.” They stayed in that position for a while, standing in each other’s arms, Feyre enjoying the weight of his body against her as she felt his chest rise up and down. And then Rhys murmured into her ear: “Do you wanna go to bed?”

Smiling at the familiarity in his words, Feyre nodded and they’d started to move upstairs when a knock echoed from the front door. She saw Rhys’ shoulders tense and he blurted as he reached for the door: “I swear, if it’s Mor coming back….”

But it wasn’t Mor standing under the porch, it was a short, fourteen years old girl with black hair and deep blue eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter 14! I had a super busy day at work, and only now found enough peace to finish editing it and to post it. I hope my late night editing won’t be too bad!!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting, I love all of your feedback :)

 

Rhys stood still for a few second, watching his sister as she watched him back. Then he seemed to shook himself and said as he moved away from the door:

“Lyra? What are you doing here? Come in.”

The girl stepped in, and as Feyre took her in under the light, there was absolutely no doubt that she was of Rhys’ blood. It wasn’t the brown skin, or the black hair, or even the peculiar eye color that gave it away. It was the way this girl stood and moved, it was the fierce light in her eyes and the similar dimple on her left cheek as she smiled shyly at her brother. Her eyes moved to meet Feyre’s and for a moment the three of them stood in the hall in an awkward silence before Rhys said: “Feyre, this is my little sister, Lyra. Lyra, this is Feyre.” He didn’t specify who or what she was to him, but she couldn’t blame him. For all their wonderful time together, they hadn’t really talked about calling themselves boyfriend and girlfriend, even though their relationship couldn’t really be described as anything else. Noticing Lyra’s wary look towards her, she advanced and said:

“Hi Lyra, it’s very nice to meet you.” The smile, and what Feyre hoped to be a friendly tone, seemed to work their magic on the teenager, who smiled back at her and extended her hand. Rhys then suggested moving into the living room and the girl tumbled down on the couch, her hands tucked between her knees, not moving. Rhys sat down beside her, and Feyre followed. The silence stretched out for what seemed like forever, and then Rhys started talking:

“Are you going to explain it, or am I supposed to guess?”

“Explain what?” His sister answered in a sharp voice.

“Oh I don’t know. The reason why you’re showing up at my house in the middle of the night, maybe?”

“What, I can’t come visit you now?”

“Of course you can, but you being alone in Velaris when you're supposed to be in Hewn with mom and dad is kind of alarming, I have to say. Do they even know you're here?”

Her silence was answer enough, and Rhys swore. “Shit Lyra, are you kidding me? I'm gonna call mom.”

“No please! I don't want them to know where I went.”

“Why? What the hell happened?” Feyre had never seen Rhys so tense before.

“I… I don't want to tell you.”

“Not telling me is not an option in this discussion, Lyra. What the  _ hell  _ do you think you're doing, leaving home alone and showing up here out of nowhere? You're fourteen!”

“Rhys…” her voice broke and tears started to roll down her cheeks. Feyre would have hugged her if Rhysand hadn't done it himself as seeing the distress in his sister. His voice was soft again when he spoke, his arms encircling her.

“Hey, calm down. I shouldn't have yelled, I’m sorry. You don't have to tell me what happened right now. But I'm gonna have to call mom, you know that, right? They're probably worried sick about you.”

Lyra nodded against his chest, incapable of forming coherent words between her sobs. Rhys was holding her against him and he continued: “You can sleep in the room across from mine if you want. I think some of your clothes are still in the closet from the last time you came. Wash up and I'll bring some tea in a minute, okay?” 

She stayed in his arms a few more minutes, her sobs calming a bit, before getting up and walking towards the staircase. Once they heard the door click shut, Rhys exhaled loudly and sat back on the couch, his eyes closed and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I'm sorry Feyre. I really didn't see  _ that _ coming. I need to call my mom,” he said, getting his phone out.

“Do you want me to go home and leave you two alone? Your sister might prefer not to have a stranger around if she's not feeling good,” Feyre said as she watched him dial.

“You're not a stranger, and if you're okay with staying here, I really want you to stay, I would - hi mom. Yeah she's here.”

The voice at the other end of the line seemed frantic, and Rhys had difficulty talking over it. “Mom, she just got here like ten minutes ago, I couldn't have called you earlier. And what about the next time your teenage daughter goes missing, you give me a heads up? No, I can hear dad, tell him not to come tonight. I don't know what happened at home, but she doesn't want to see you guys.” He fell silent as the voice answered and closed his eyes in exasperation. “Shit. Well tell dad whenever he wants to be a jackass, maybe he can chose a better target than Lyra. Don't come down here, she's with me, she's safe. I'll get her back home on Sunday okay? You're welcome. Try and get some sleep.”

He hung up and got up from the couch to go to the kitchen and start the kettle. Feyre followed him, taking a mug from the shelf to prepare the tray. He watched her and as she turned to find a teabag, his arms found their place around her waist. He buried his face in her neck and whispered: “Thank you.” For a moment, they stayed in a tight embrace, her back pressed on his chest. Then Rhys said:

“My sister wants to spend next summer in the mountains, and my father doesn't want her to go because he doesn't think it's appropriate for a fourteen years old to be left there alone. He wants her to, I quote, “live properly until she's old enough to meet a nice boy and get married.” And that's not really the way my sister wants to live her life, she wants to work for Doctors without Borders. Going to the Illyrian camps is a way to escape my father’s expectations for a few months. They had a big argument today because my father told her he wanted to send her to a summer camp on the east coast, and so they talked again about her wanting to be a doctor, him wanting her to work with us until she gets married, the usual stuff. But according to my mother, it got particularly ugly. My sister got out of the house saying she would find a way out of the family if she couldn't live the way she wanted. My parents thought she'd gone to a friend's house nearby because she'd left without her cell, and they only started to worry when they went to get her for dinner and she wasn't there.”

The kettle signaled them the water was boiling, and Rhys let go of her. Feyre stood in the kitchen watching him.

“I don't know what to say, I'm sorry.”

He looked up from the tray and smiled: “Don't worry darling, there's not much to say, Lyra just needs to cool off this weekend, and my father needs to understand that he can't control her future. Let's go upstairs.”

They climbed the stairs together, and Rhys stopped between two doors. He nodded towards the door on the right and whispered:

“This is my room. Make yourself at home, there are fresh towels in the bathroom if you want to take a shower. I'll be there in a minute.” They kissed and he knocked on the door on the left. Feyre was inside his bedroom before it opened.

Rhysand’s bedroom was huge, with a king-size bed in the middle of the room, and antique furniture all around - a desk, a big dresser, a bookshelf. A door led to a bright bathroom where she found both shower and bathtub waiting for her. Realizing she hadn't brought night clothes with her - she had assumed they wouldn’t be necessary, she remembered with a low giggle -, she fished around and found a large white shirt to put on once she'd be out of the shower. She didn’t think Rhys would mind her borrowing it for one night.

He still wasn't back when she got out of the bathroom, so she turned off the lights and settled in his bed. She had been determined to wait for him, but exhaustion hit her and she fell asleep in minutes.

 

***

 

Rhysand entered the bedroom and sat on the bed. Lyra sat down beside him and took the hot mug between her hands. They sat for a while in silence, no sound but the small sips she took. At last she took her eyes away from the tea and looked up at him. 

“What did mom say?”

“I convinced her to let you stay here until Sunday. But you're gonna need to go home eventually, Lyra.”

“I know, I only said I wanted out to piss off dad.”

He laughed at that. “Well I think you did a damn good job.”

She finished her tea and he took the mug from her, deposited it on the ground, and lay down on the bed. She did the same beside him and put her head on his shoulder.

“I don't understand why dad is so hard with me. I mean, I want to be a doctor, I'm not getting high on cocaine or something!”

“You know how he is, he always needs to control everything around him, and you're no different. You're too wild for him, too much like mom. But don't worry, he'll come to his senses eventually, when you arrive first of your class in med school.”

“I don't know, he's the one that's going to pay for my classes, and as he so kindly reminded me today, ‘he's not going to spend thousands of dollars on a hopeless career.’”

“He called med school ‘hopeless’!?”

“I think it was more the ‘Doctors without Borders’ bit that got him. You know, helping people without gaining something in return is not really a clear idea for dad.”

“Yeah I know. But he'll get around, I promise.”

She didn't answer, and said instead:

“Rhys, do you regret sometimes that you didn't get to chose your career? I mean, dad did to you what he wants to do to me now, and yet you seem okay with it.”

“I  _ am  _ okay with it, Lyra. I mean, maybe when I was your age I wouldn't have said the same, but my job allows me to help a lot of people, and that's what I've always wanted to do, so I'm fine with it. Besides, once dad retires and him and mom move to Europe, I'll be able to achieve my true goal with the company: sell all the actions and use the money to build a candy factory.”

Her laugh sounded in the air, and touched Rhysand into his very heart. He’d loved her so much since the day she was born, that making her laugh was always amazing to him, even after fourteen years. Her laugh lingered between them as she spoke again:

“Sometimes I don't understand how mom and dad ended up together. They're  _ so _ different!”

“Opposites attract I guess. Love isn't really something that can be explained. I mean, I love you even when you're annoying, which is most of the time.”

“When was I ever annoying?” She asked, falsely offended.

“Oh I don't know, Miss ‘I barge in on my brother during a wonderful evening he was having with a beautiful woman’.”

She laughed. “I'm sorry I interrupted your night.”

“It's fine, you know I'm here whenever you need me.”

“So is she your girlfriend?” Her voice sounded eager.

To his dismay, Rhys felt his cheeks get warmer.

“I guess.”

“You guess?! You don't ‘guess’ this kind of things, she either is or she isn't!”

“Then I guess she is, yes.”

He felt her grin against his shoulder.

“She’s very pretty.”

“That she is. And really nice, I think you'll like her.”

“So do you love her?”

“Lyra, I met her like three weeks ago.”

“So?”

“So you don't fall in love with someone in three weeks.”

“I don't see why not.”

He chuckled and didn't answer. After a while, he felt her breathing calm down, and moved her under the covers.

He left her room and entered his own, finding all the lights out and Feyre tucked beneath the sheets. He undressed down to his undershorts, slowly moved just enough of the covers to slide beside her without waking her, and found her wearing nothing but her underpants and one of his tee-shirts. He smiled.  _ So do you love her? _ As he grew closer to her and she nestled on his chest, he thought maybe three weeks wasn't too short a period to know the answer to that question.

 

***

 

Waking up slowly, Rhys reached out beside him to find Feyre in the bed, eager for her warmth against him. But the bed was empty. He opened his eyes to search the room, all lamps were still out, the only light coming from the sun outside. The events of last night came back to him as he got up to dress: the evening with Mor, Lyra’s sudden arrival and the quiet night snuggled against Feyre. He went into the hallway, and was greeted by laughter coming from downstairs.

Lyra was propped up on the kitchen counter, chatting, and Feyre was… cooking? Still wearing his white shirt, but having added a pair of jeans, she was bent over a frying pan and laughing as Lyra kept going:

“Oh and also there was the time I got Cassian to bring me to a concert with him even though I was supposed to be grounded.”

“And how did you manage that?”

“When Lyra wants something,” Rhys interrupted, “she's not afraid to lie to her own brothers to get it.”

They both turned and Lyra grinned at him:

“Or maybe I just have more charm than you do. I got Feyre to make me pancakes this morning, did she ever made  _ you _ pancakes?”

He went up to Feyre as she was getting one of said pancakes out of the pan. “I'm afraid she never did. Maybe you do have more charms than I do,” he said to his sister, hearing Feyre chuckle beside him. “Lyra did you take a shower this morning?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you can go and we'll finish getting breakfast ready while you're gone.”

“But I don't wanna go now!”

“Oh well you can stay if you want, I mean if you don't mind some unrestrained displays of affection…” he encircled Feyre’s waist as he said it and Lyra quickly changed her mind, leaving the kitchen with a sound of disgust. As soon as she was gone, Rhys let his lips gently explore Feyre’s neck.

“Good morning,” he whispered, pressing against her.

“Good morning.”

“I missed you when I woke up.”

“I didn't want to bother you.” She took the last pancake out of the pan, turned off the cooker and turned around to meet his eyes. 

“So tell me, how come you're making pancakes for my sister?”

“Oh I came down to make some tea and she was looking through your fridge in search for food. We talked a bit and one thing led to another, and now we're having pancakes. I'm not any good though so I hope they won't be too bad. She's right you know, I don't know how she got me into the kitchen, I hate to cook!”

He laughed. “Are you saying my baby sister has more charisma than I do?”

Her smile was wicked when she answered:

“You can still prove me otherwise.”

“Is that a challenge?

“Is it?”

Her voice was lower when she answered, and he bit his lip to keep from biting her neck. But when she kissed him, he took her in is arms and got her to sit on the kitchen counter, settling himself between her legs. He knew they couldn't go any farther than a kiss, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting more when she ground her hips against him.

“You're gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, but pushing against her nonetheless. She laughed in his mouth and let go of him. They stayed that way for a minute, breathing each other in and calming down their desire. Finally, Feyre spoke:

“Do you have oranges?”

“What?”

“Oranges. I thought we could make some orange juice to go with the pancakes and tea.”

“Right! Yeah I have some.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15 is here. I’ll be honest with you, I’m not entirely happy with how this one turned out, but I can’t really put my finger on why (I feel like it’s paced weirdly somehow). Anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading and commenting!!!!

Feyre went home after breakfast, hugging Lyra and kissing Rhys at the door.

“You can stay you know, Lyra likes you, I don't think she'll mind,” he'd whispered, but she'd shook her head.

“No it's okay. I need to go home, and I want you to enjoy being with your sister while she's here. Call me?”

And just like that, he was alone with Lyra. They watched a movie at first, then she dozed off again and he called Cassian and Azriel while she slept. They were arriving at his place when she woke up.

“Hey you little runaway!” Cassian said when she was hugging him. “Did you miss us so much that you felt the need to lie to come see us?”

“Miss  _ you? _ I missed Azriel the most!” She teased him, finishing her greetings before sitting back on the coach.

“Sorry Cas, you know I've always been more of a charmer than you,” Azriel said, taking the spot besides Lyra and smirking at him.

Rhys went to the kitchen to make coffee and smiled. It was always easy to be with them. Cassian and Azriel had already been part of the family when Lyra was born, and for her, there was no difference between the three of them, they were just her brothers, blood related or not.

“So Lyra,” continued Azriel, “What the hell happened at home?”

“Oh you know, I talked about how I wanted to go to the mountains this summer, dad told me he'd made inquiries about a summer camp on the East Coast, I said I wouldn't go. And then he told me about his grand plan for my life: to go to college, meet a boy, get married and have children. You know, because that's the only thing a girl might want in her life.”

Cassian laughed. “Oh obviously. But you and your father have this exact same argument about twice a month these days. What made you storm out and come here?”

“I didn't just tell him about med school, I told him about Doctors without Borders. He totally freaked out, and he told me he'd never planned on agreeing with me going to med school in the first place, and that he certainly wouldn't agree now that he knew I wanted to waste my life away.”

Cassian rolled his eyes at Rhys who'd come back from the kitchen with coffee and some leftovers from breakfast, and said: “A real prize, your father.”

“Tell me about it. By now he should know that our Lyra here is going to do whatever she wants.”

Azriel snorted and added: “I'm honestly surprised he's still trying. You're too much like your mom Lyra. Doesn't he know how stubborn she is, and how she always gets what she wants?”

“I think Dad sometimes forgets that Mom’s parents didn't want them together, and that they ended up having to accept because of how stubborn she is.” Rhys poured two mugs of coffee and some orange juice, before continuing. “If he thinks the women in our family will simply bend to his will, he's in for a ride.”

“Yeah well I can disagree all I want, he's still the one that's going to refuse to pay for school, so he wins.”

“Lyra, there are other means to pay for your education you know,” Rhys answered, “You can take up a loan, you can work for a few years before you start, and worse comes to worse, I'll lend you some money if you don't have enough.”

“I don’t want you to pay for this.”

“Did I stutter? I said I would lend you money, not give it to you.”

She gave him a shy smile and said:

“Thank you. Dad's still going to be pissed when I'm thirty and don't have the husband-and-children pack secured.”

Azriel, who'd been sipping his coffee in silence, said quietly: “Don't worry Lyra, Rhys is on his way to securing this for himself, you'll have a few years of tranquility once  _ he _ gets married.”

Thankfully, Cassian and Lyra laughed loud enough to cover the strangled song that came out of Rhys’ lips.

“What?!” He managed to get out. 

“Oh don't be shy, bro, we all know you have a girlfriend,” Cass grinned.

“Yes I do, a  _ girlfriend _ . That I met less than three weeks ago. Can we all stop planning my future for a second?”

They only grinned wider and Lyra spoke:

“Actually, seeing you two together this morning, it really doesn't look like it's only been three weeks.”

“‘This morning’, huh?  _ Interesting _ ,” Cassian said.

“It's not ‘interesting’. She spent the night here, that's all. I understand Lyra smirking, but you two are adults, why should I be ashamed of having someone over?” For all that he said to them, he still felt his cheeks burn.

“She didn't just spend the night though. She made breakfast. Pancakes and orange juice.”

“She did?  _ Interesting _ .”

“You're such an ass, Cassian.”

“Don't listen to him, Cass. And yes she made breakfast, and it wasn't too bad. I mean, her pancakes were a bit dry and undercooked, but it was good enough with maple syrup.”

“How does one manage to make pancakes both dry  _ and _ undercooked?! That's completely illogical.” Azriel said, and this time, Rhys didn't repress his chuckle. It was illogical, but Feyre was exactly that way: an illogical marvel, sweet and funny and witty. And maybe some parts of her were a bit broken, but she was healing herself, and maybe he would be able to help her, if she let him.

 

***

 

The weekend was over before he wanted it to be. With Lyra here, they'd spend their time walking around in Velaris, buying waffles and eating them seated on benches in front of the Sidra. He loved when she was around, laughing and chatting endlessly, a lighthouse beckoning him to her, and he couldn't suppress his joy when he was with her. Plus, it didn't hurt that his brothers and Mor had joined them most of the time, and seeing them all together always warmed his heart. Only Amren was absent, his business partner that had somewhat become a friend over the years. He considered her part of his family, but she would never agree with him, this solitary creature that didn't like admitting she cared about them. So she hadn't come for more than an hour on Saturday, greeting  Lyra, lunching with them and then leaving again.

Lyra and him had spent the entire following night binge-watching a TV show, and she was still obsessively talking about it when they arrived at their parents’ house on Sunday afternoon. He parked in the driveway and as they approached the front door, Lyra grew silent and lingered behind him. 

“Come on sis, it's gonna be fine.”

“They're mad, I'll be grounded.”

“Of course you'll be, you ran away from home, what did you expect?” Still, he took her hand in his and didn't let go when their parents opened the door.

His mother beamed with joy when she saw them both, hugging them in turn and leading them inside. His father was leaning on the wall closer to the kitchen, behind her, and said nothing while they took off their coats. He nodded quietly to his son, but his eyes didn't leave Lyra, who approached sheepishly. When she was standing in front of him, he didn't give her time to open her mouth before he took a step towards her and crushed her into his arms.

They didn't speak for a while, his father simply hugging his daughter against him, his eyes closed. Then he gently let go of her, took her face in his hand and finally spoke:

“Lyra, please don't ever disappear like that again.”

She seemed as baffled as Rhys was when she answered: “I'm sorry, Dad.”

He gave her a kiss on the brow and led them all to the kitchen table. When they were all seated, their mother spoke:

“Lyra, we're glad you're back, but what you did is unforgivable. Did you think about how worried we would be? Did you think about everything that could have happened to you?!”

“Mom I'm sorry. And Rhys already gave me the talk about how stupid what I did was.”

Wrong thing to say, and Rhys winced as he saw his father's eyebrows narrow.

“Oh and you think that because your brother scolded you for probably a minute before showering you with presents all weekend, you're off the hook?”

“No, Dad, that's not what I meant, I…”

“Go to your room. I don't want to see you down here until dinner, we’ll talk punishment then.”

Lyra left, giving him a miserable look, and when he looked back at his parents, they seemed wary, tired, older that he'd ever seen them. They were holding hands and looking at each other, relief straining their faces. He watched them for a moment before speaking:

“Dad, you need to stop.”

They both looked at him at the same time and his father spoke:

“What?”

“You need to stop pressuring her. She knows what she wants in life, she has a purpose to work towards. You can't force her to be someone she's not.”

“Rhysand, that's not what I'm doing, I want what's best for her.”

“And you think stifling her every decisions is doing what's best for her?”

“She's too young to realize that she's making wrong choices.”

“You really think that wanting to be a doctor is a wrong choice?” And before his father could answer, he continued, “and even if it was, then let her make her own errors! You can't coddle her forever, not when she doesn't want you to.”

“She's too young to know what she wants to do with her life, she still has time.”

“And sending her to the other side of the country for two months will help?”

“It's better than spending two months in the mountains.”

Before Rhys could answer, his mother spoke.

“Honey, I grew up in those camps. Illyrian is a part of who I am, of who our children are. You can’t keep them away forever.”

“I don’t want our daughter coming back covered in ink.”

“Dad, she won't. I know you think of my tattoos as the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life, but they’re not. And Lyra is not me, anyway. She’s not going to take part in the Rite, and she’s not going to get tattooed next summer.”

They sat there for an eternity before his father answered: “I’ll think about it.”

 

***

 

Hours later, Rhys was driving through Velaris, stopping only for food before arriving home and eating on his couch. He’d imagined this weekend going a lot differently. He hadn’t imagined his sister showing up, hadn’t imagined a family reunion over waffles, or a heart-to-heart with his parents. Mostly he’d imagined spending the whole weekend with Feyre, not much else in mind that her smiling at something stupid he’d said, or rolling her eyes when he flirted shamelessly with her. He was glad of how these two days had turned out, but he did miss her terribly. He picked up his phone and dialed, already hearing her beautiful voice sing in his head before she answered.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I let you read, a few important announcements.  
> For those of you following me on Tumblr, I will be leaving tumblr from Sunday 21st, until I’ve read Kingdom of Ash. You can find more information about how I'll handle the koa release on the notes of this chapter (plus I'll do a more specific post in the days to come)
> 
> Regarding the fic: this might be my last update in a while. In November, I won’t be updating it at all, because I’ll spend the month of November working on developing my original story, and I can’t focus on my story if I keep thinking about my fics. So I’ll try to get a chapter out between the moment when I’ll finish Kingdom of Ash, and the beginning of November, but nothing certain. In any case, whether it be this chapter or the next one, I promise I won’t leave you guys on a big cliffhanger hahahaha (I’m really not that cruel ^^), and I also promise that I am in no way abandoning this fic, and will be back in December! I just need some time for my other project :)
> 
> Anyway, that’s it I guess. Thank you so so much to everyone who reads, likes, comments,... I love it all!!

Feyre sat down at her small desk after lunch, a smile lingering on her face. She’d just eaten with Rhys, and at some point during the meal, he’d casually referred to her as his girlfriend, before realizing what he’d said and looking at her with dread in his eyes. She hadn’t been able to stop her laugh at the sight of him freaking out, a warm feeling spreading in her heart at the idea that he considered her his girlfriend, that it had come as naturally to him as it had to her. Still smiling, she opened her inbox to check emails, somewhat mindlessly reading through them, thinking - and blushing - about something Rhys had whispered in her ear before leaving her at the door. Something about making his girlfriend moan when he…

There was an email from New York. From John, the author she’d met with the week before. And the email was titled: “John Helvar - Illustrated edition - Trip to NYC?” She opened it frantically and read what he’d written to her:

 

_ From: john.helvar@gmail.com _

_ To: arch.feyre@gmail.com _

_ Email sent on: Tuesday, October 30th at 1:04 p.m. _

 

_ Feyre, _

 

_ How are you? _

_ I’m writing to you as a follow up of our meeting in Velaris last week. I was charmed by all of the ideas you presented to me, and showed them to my publisher on Friday. She also liked them, and would like to meet you and discuss them further before making a final decision. We’re both available at the beginning of next week, and would like for you to come to New York for a few days. It would be a trip from Sunday afternoon until Wednesday morning, allowing us two full days to work. The publishing house would pay for your plane tickets and your hotel. _

_ Let me know before Thursday if you’re available, to book everything for you. _

_ Looking forward to seeing you soon in New York, _

 

_ John. _

 

She wasn’t sure she was breathing. He wanted her to come to New York. To meet his publisher. To craft a contract. Which meant he wanted to work with her, he wanted her to create every single one of the illustrations for his books. An entire collection, with about 100 to 150 pages per book. After meeting her twice, he trusted her enough to agree to working with her for the next few months, the next few  _ years _ . She felt her heart racing in her chest, her breathing became jagged and her hands were shaking.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go to New York and meet with these people when she had to drag herself out of bed every morning, when she found every drawing she made harder than the last. Not when she’d been unable to pick up a paintbrush for months, her only drawings being those requested for work. She’d felt sort of confident during the meetings with him, but it hadn’t been serious. For all that she wanted and needed this job, she hadn’t considered the possibility that he might actually  _ choose  _ her. Her vision blurred and she realized she was crying. The realization woke her up and she tried to force her body to calm down. Nothing was decided yet, she thought, clenching at her desk to keep herself grounded, he simply wanted her to meet the rest of the team that was working on the project. Maybe he didn’t even want to work only with her, maybe she would be part of a bigger team of illustrators and her work wouldn’t even be noticed.

But it didn't work, she was still panicking, tears still rolled down on her cheeks. Without thinking, she picked up her phone and dialed.

 

***

 

The day was beautiful. Granted, it was raining, and he was freezing, and he had about a zillion paperwork to finish before he could go home tonight. But how could this day not be beautiful, when he’d just had lunch with his wonderful girlfriend - it was official now - and she was coming to his place to spend the night. He’d have to buy some stuff for her if she started to sleep at his house more regularly, like a toothbrush, some of her shampoo, maybe some stuff for her period if she wanted, a hairbrush,...

He was driven away from his mental shopping list by the vibrations of his phone in his pocket. Smiling at the name on the screen, he answered:

“Hey you, miss me already?”

“Oh Gods Rhys, I’m freaking out.” Her voice was stranded, and her breathing frantic.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I am. It’s just…. I received an email from the guy I met with the other week. He wants me to go to New York next week to meet his publishing team.”

“Feyre, that’s great!” He wasn’t really an expert in the publishing world, but the author wanting her to meet with his publisher was bound to be a good sign.

“I… Yeah I guess it is.” But her voice was flat, and he started wondering what was in this email that got her so freaked out.

“Darling, what’s going on? You don’t sound pleased.”

“No, I am.” A pause. “I am. See you tonight at your place?”

“Y - yes, sure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

But she had already hung up before his question was over.

 

***

 

She refused to approach the subject of New York for the entire evening, cleverly avoiding talking about it, and bluntly staring at him when he tried to bring it up. So they ate in near silence, Rhys trying and failing to make her open up to him, and then keeping quiet, hoping she might feel better if he left her alone. They washed the dishes, turned off the lights and got up to his bedroom. He was fishing out a clean pair of underpants to sleep in when he caught a glimpse of her in the mirror, seated on his bed, her hand tucked between her thighs, crying silently. He turned around and hurried to her, kneeling down in front of her.

“Feyre, what’s going on?”

She avoided his eyes, and was clenching her hands together, tears rolling down her cheeks silently. Still without looking at him, she said: “Are you… Are you mad at me?”

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Well… I don’t know. Because I didn’t want to talk about New York, and you might think I want to hide something from you, and be mad.” Her voice had grown quieter as she talked, and she looked so sad, Rhys decided then and there that if he ever met her ex-boyfriend, he wouldn’t mind punching him in the face once or twice.

“Feyre, please, look at me.” And he was pleading her, pleading because he wanted her to look into his eyes and understand that he would never react like that, with her or anyone else. She met his eyes but she was still sobbing silently, her beautiful face stained by tears, and her eyes red. “Feyre, you don’t have to tell me everything. Ever. If you don’t want to tell me about something, it’s absolutely fine, and normal.” He rested his hands on her thighs gently. “I simply stopped talking about it because I thought I was annoying you, and I thought you’d feel better if I left it alone. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

He stopped talking and let her cry, not wanting to make her feel like she had to stop before she felt better. She cried for a while longer, and then she managed to calm down enough to take in deep breaths. He got up from his knees, sat down beside her and gently took her head between his hand. He brushed away her tears with his thumbs, and slowly, so that she’d understand what he was doing and stop him if she wanted to, he hugged her. She gripped his jumper and he tightened his grip on her back, pulling her even closer to him.

“I don’t think I’m going to go to New York,” her voice was a mere whisper, as if she was indeed telling him a secret, but she was steady.

“Can I ask you why?” He kept his voice equally low.

“I don’t think it’s going to be worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not good enough to do this job, Rhys. And even if I was, even if the people I’d met with liked my work… I would never be able to deliver.”

“Why would you think that? You’ve been doing this job for years.”

“But this is different. It’s… It’s such a big commitment. If I do agree to work with them, I’ll probably be involved in this project for years. It’s seven books to illustrate. It would take so long, and I can’t guarantee them that I’ll be able to manage it.”

He gently forced her to move away from him so that he could look her in the eyes when he answered:

“Feyre, this is your job, and from what you’ve shown me, you’re pretty good at it. I have no doubt that if you start working with them, you’ll deliver every single piece of art they need. And every single one of them will be beautiful.”

She gave him a sad smile, and it broke his heart a little, because he could see that she didn’t believe him, that she simply smiled because she thought he was only trying to reassure her. Gods, he wanted to help her so much it hurt, he could feel his heart break at the sight of her being so sad. He couldn’t stand to know that she didn’t believe in herself, when he himself believed in her more than he could express. And it seemed that there was nothing he could say or do that would change her feeling of being worthless.

“Feyre, why do you think you can’t manage?”

“Because… My job, it’s not serious. Working with your hobby, that’s not something serious, that’s not something you can do for your entire life. Drawing and painting, I never learned properly, I was never trained. And untrained skills are useless in the professional world, I wouldn’t be able to hold my own in such a big project.”

And then he knew. He knew why she was feeling so unconfident. And he was boiling with rage at the idea. But he needed to be sure:

“Did  _ he  _ tell you that? Did  _ he  _ call your talents useless and tell you that you couldn’t work with them?” Her silence was answer enough, and he wanted to cry. “Shit Feyre. You are  _ so  _ talented. What you’re able to create, what comes to life under your touch, it’s a gift. And it’s beautiful. Maybe you weren’t trained, but I have  _ absolutely no doubt _ that you’ll be able to meet any challenge that comes your way. You’re strong, and you’re stubborn enough not to let anyone tell you otherwise.” She chuckled slightly at that, sniffing after her tears, “Feyre, I think you should go to New York, because you might regret it if you don’t. And I’m sure you won’t regret going. Worse thing happens, you don’t like it, you tell them that you don’t want to work with them, and you come back home. Free trip to New York!”

She actually laughed at his sloppy attempt at a joke, and wiped her eyes to get rid of the last tears lingering in them. His chest tightened, and he resisted the urge to take her in his arms again, allowing her space to breathe. When she looked at him once more, there was still sadness in her eyes, but it was coated with a joyful brightness that reflected in her smile. She advanced and kissed him fully, her lips wet and salty, and he kissed her back, hugging her against him.

 

***

 

She arrived at her desk the next morning rested and smiling softly. What had happened the night before had been… amazing. Rhysand had been amazing. She’d had one of her most awful days in a long time, and still he had found the right words, given her the exact amount of reassuring and affection and space to sort it out. He’d given her  _ space _ , had allowed her to cry for as long as she’d needed it, not commenting on it, not asking for her to calm down. And she had felt so much better afterwards. She couldn’t exactly say that she was confident about her abilities to work on the project, but at least she was ready to try. She opened her computer and typed an answer:

 

_ RE: John Helvar - Illustrated edition - Trip to NYC? _

 

_ From: arch.feyre@gmail.com _

_ To: john.helvar@gmail.com _

_ Draft written on: Wednesday, October 31st at 9:12 a.m. _

 

_ Hello John, _

 

_ Thank you for your email. I am thrilled that you liked my ideas for your book, and would love to come to New York next week to discuss it further with you and your associates. I am available on the dates you gave me, so feel free to book those days for our meeting. Please find enclosed a copy of my personal information for any booking you might have to make regarding this trip. _

 

_ Looking forward to seeing you again, _

_ Greetings from Velaris. _

 

_ Feyre. _

 

Looking at her screen, she exhaled loudly and clicked  _ send _ , afraid she might lose her nerves if she waited any longer.

She was going to New York.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had planned to not write for my fanfiction at all during November to focus on my original story. And mostly, I did do that, but yesterday I wanted a break so I finished and edited chapter 17! I’m going back to my original until the end of the month but I have some other exciting stuffs packed for you guys in the months to come!!  
> It’s not really long, and it’s quite different from the rest of the story, but I hope you’ll like it nonetheless :) Thank you for liking and commenting, it means the world!!

The next Sunday, they left his house together to go to the airport. Once there, Rhys got her small suitcase out of the trunk while she paid the cab driver, and they went inside. They were in line for her check-in when he looked at her and saw that her jaw was clenched and that she was twisting her fingers. He grabbed her hand.

“Feyre, it’s gonna be great.”

“I can’t stop it. Rhys. I keep thinking of all the ways it could go wrong, of everything awful that could happen, and I’m freaking out. Plus I barely slept last night and I’m exhausted.”

She had spent half the night getting up to check her belongings and talk to him about her trip and everything she was afraid of. The other half, she’d drifted off into an uneasy sleep, twisting around and clenching her jaw in her dreams. She did look exhausted, with strained lips and shades of violet under her eyes. He wondered if she’d slept any better the nights before she came at his place, or if she’d been that anxious all week.

“It’ll be fine, tonight you can just get to your hotel and rest. You’ll feel better tomorrow. I mean, assuming a stray dog doesn’t enter your hotel room to destroy your tablet.” She laughed nervously and reddened, also remembering one of the ridiculous possibilities of something going wrong she’d evoked the night before.

“If this ends up happening, you are going to feel  _ so _ bad that you laughed at me.”

“Oh if this ends up happening, I will feel bad. And I’ll find a way to make it up to you,” he whispered, breathing into her ear and then nipping at her earlobe. She took in a deep breath and smiled at him, undoubtedly remembering  _ another  _ part of their night, when they’d finally been able to make out on his coach for more than a few minutes without being interrupted.

The man at the check-in counter called them before he could start whispering more in her ear, and they advanced to the counter, left her suitcase, and headed for the security gates. They stood before the entrance for a while, chatting about anything but her trip, and finally she needed to go through security or risk missing her flight.

“I’ll see you Wednesday?” He voice was quiet and tense, but she was smiling at him.

“Yes, I’ll come get you when you land.”

“You don’t have to, I can take a cab home, I don’t want you to miss work for me.”

“No it’s okay, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you. That way if I’m a total mess, you’ll be in charge of comforting me.”

“It’ll be an honor,” he laughed.

She looked away, and he knew she wasn’t kidding when she feared coming back as a complete mess, so he said: “It will be great Feyre, don’t worry. Your work is good, you’re strong, and I’m sure you’ll do amazing.”

“It’s a good thing you have so much faith in me, it keeps me from going completely crazy with fear. I have to go.”

He nodded but didn’t immediately let go of her hand.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you.” He stumbled on his words and felt heat creep up his neck and face. He  _ was  _ going to miss her. Since that first night at her place, they’d seen each other as often as possible and he’d grown accustomed to her presence in his world. Four days without her were nothing, but it suddenly felt like a lifetime.

“I’ll miss you too. A lot,” she squeezed his fingers and they let go, exchanging one last kiss before she went through the gate.

 

***

 

Feyre arrived in New York five hours later and it was night when she reached her hotel. She ate out of a take-out box, bent over her drawing tablet, revising the designs she had prepared. She was to meet John and his publisher the next morning and present them with more elaborate drawings of her ideas. If they indeed liked it, they would spend the rest of the day discussing the terms of the contract. But she didn't let herself think about the contract, about what it would mean for her life if she indeed got involved in such a big project. Rhys had somehow convinced her to come to New York, he'd kept her fears at bay for a few days, but now that she was actually  _ here _ , getting her work ready, she had to force her mind to focus on her drawings and nothing else.

_ “Did _ he  _ tell you that?” _ Rhys had asked her when she'd broken down in front of him, and of course he'd guessed right. Tamlin was the one to blame for her insecurities, although she wasn't yet ready to admit it completely. When they'd started going out, he'd loved to watch her paint and draw, had bought her fancy supplies and beamed when she used them to paint him, his garden, their life together. But when she'd moved in with him, he'd started saying something else, too. How her art was beautiful, and she had the cutest hobby ever. How she could spend her days painting if only she didn't have to go to work every day of the week. How it was strange to work with her hobby, instead of having a real job. She’d thought he was joking, at first, brushing off his remarks with a sarcastic comment, or just ignoring him. But he'd grown more insistant, and… meaner. He’d been bringing up the subject of her quitting at least twice a week. He hadn’t seemed to realize when she’d first stopped painting, because she was still drawing for work. And then when he’d seen her supplies stocked away in a drawer of their bedroom, covered in dust, he’d said to her:

“See, that’s what happens when you let your hobby become your work. You don’t paint anymore because your work is wasting away all of your creativity.”

She hadn’t told him that day that she’d stopped painting because she didn’t have the energy, and that working was becoming harder and harder. She hadn’t told him that she kept going to work to have one space where he wasn’t there, one space that was hers alone, and that she would keep going to work because it felt like the only way to escape a bit of the numbness she felt at home, with him. And she hadn’t told him that it broke her heart a little bit every time he called her job a “hobby.”

She’d spent the last months with him working on her current projects but not picking up anything new because she didn’t feel like she would be able to live up to the challenge.

This new opportunity could be amazing… if she managed to not make a fool of herself the next day, she thought, revising her ideas one last time before getting into bed, hoping she’d manage to sleep for at least a few hours.

 

***

 

“Feyre, hello!”

“John, how are you?” She greeted him at the entrance of the building they were meeting in.

“Good, good. How was your flight? How’s your hotel?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“Great. I’m glad you’re here, Feyre, and I can’t wait for you to meet Mary,” he added as they went into an elevator. “She really liked the ideas I showed her, but was hoping to see more. Anyway, here we are.” They got out of the elevator and he led her into an office where a red-headed woman was waiting for them. They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before the meeting actually began, and Feyre had to lay in front of them all the prints of her ideas. They were both looking at her with focused interest, and she started talking.

 

***

 

The three of them had spent more than two hours going over her illustrations and talking about the books. Now Feyre was waiting on the break room, and untouched tea in front of her. They had dismissed her fifteen minutes before, to discuss their decision. The meeting had gone pretty well, and Feyre was fairly certain that their answer would be positive, but she wasn’t sure what she would do if they presented her with a contract. Sure, she’d felt good talking about the different ideas she had, and she’d been excited at some of the possibilities they had discussed, doodling them on blank pages as they talked. But she had no idea what kind of deal they would offer her, and still no idea if she would take it.

“Feyre, can you come back?” Mary called her from the end of the hall. She went to the office and sat down at the table. Both of them were smiling, and John started talking:

“Feyre, we talked a lot about the possibility of working with you on this project. As you know, I was already thrilled at the idea, and now, Mary seems to be, too.”

“Yes, I think we could really do great work together,” Mary continued, “You seem motivated and you are definitely talented, with the style we were looking for.”

“Thank you,” she felt heat creep up her cheeks.

“Now the question is, would you be interested in working with us?”

And the answer came out of her immediately, an answer she hadn’t prepared for: “I would.”

“Great. What do you say I send a first draft of the contract to your hotel, and we talk more about potentially working together tomorrow? That way, you’ll have time to study it and we can talk about more precise terms.”

“Yes, sure.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

They all got up and Mary went back to her office, while John and her took the elevator down.

 

***

 

125 pages per book. Approximately. They wanted her to work on the entire series, and if all went well, they were to publish approximately one book every thirteen or fourteen months. If she said yes to this, she would have a steady income for at least eight years, and probably an international recognition of her work, seeing as John’s books were famous all around the globe. The pay was reasonable, good enough considering the length of the work and that she was still relatively new to the industry. The conditions were fair and flexible enough to accomodate for any kind of delays she might need, and even though she’d have to discuss some details with them in the morning, overall, it was a very good deal.

But it would be a commitment for at least eight years if she signed it. She would have to keep delivering good, interesting work, for eight years. And she knew, could feel it deep down in her gut, that she would never live up to this challenge. She was not good enough, no matter what the people around her said. She was young and undisciplined, she had no training, and drawing had always been more of a hobby…

She stopped her thoughts at that word, dragging her hands across her face and into her hair. This wasn’t her speaking. She knew it. She had never thought that way about her job before Tamlin and his constant remarks about it.

_ Are you sure you’ll manage to finish in time? You haven’t been very productive these days. _

_ You know, I have a much bigger salary, you don’t have to work as you do, you could enjoy your hobby on your free time. _

_ You’re not going to keep working when we have kids, are you? _

He’d pushed these thoughts down her throat time and time again, until she was persuaded that he was right, and that she was worthless. But she wasn’t. She had managed to keep her family afloat for years when she was a teenager, she’d seized the opportunity of working with what she loved most in her life when she’d seen it, and every single one of her works had been praised. She could do it, she could work on this project and do a great job of it, because there was no reason in the world that she wouldn’t be able to. And Tamlin had persuaded her of the contrary, so now she needed to prove him wrong, to prove herself wrong, and to accept this new amazing opportunity that had been presented to her.

And she would do it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So, I finished November and I’m pretty happy about my advancement on my original (you can go check it out on my Tumblr if you’re interested, it’s not much but it’s taking form so I’m happy!).
> 
> Anyway, here’s chapter 18, I hope you’ll enjoy it. It starts veeeeery NSFW but it’s only a couple of paragraphs and then you’re fine XD The rest of the chapter is… very angsty and kinda sad and I hope you will all forgive me for putting Feyre through it!
> 
> Thank you for commenting!

 

Feyre clenched the sheets beside her, enjoying the sensation of whatever Rhys was doing between her legs. He'd been at it for a while now (maybe fifteen minutes,  maybe thirty, she didn’t know), working her up with his fingers and his mouth, listening to every change in her breathing, to every gasp and moan that was coming out of her lips. He'd adapted his movements according to her reactions, as if he was learning exactly how to pleasure her best. He pressed in a particularly sensible point and she gasped. “Oh, keep doing that.”

He kept his pressure even, moving slightly inside her, only increasing the sensation. “Like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” Her voice was a mere whisper, but she couldn't get out more than this short sentence before she felt her body shiver under the waves of pleasure, and she let out a small noise that might have been a moan, might have been his name. He kept on stroking her softly for a while longer, and when her breathing started to calm down, he slowly climbed back up to lay down beside her. She nestled into his arms and smiled at him. He answered with an unbelievably smug smile of his own, before drawing closer and kissing her softly.

“Rhys,” she murmured between two kisses, “that was… incredible.”

“I know.”

“Modesty really isn't your strong suit, is it?”

“Well, why would I be modest when my girlfriend seems to be so pleased with what I do to her?”

She laughed, then tugged him closer. He obliged, and she enjoyed the warmth of his body around her. She'd come back from New York the day before, and it was the second night in a row that she spent at Rhys’ house.

She'd signed the contract, and had felt lighter than she'd had in months afterwards. Her last night in New York had been spent over a delicious meal with John and Mary, and she’d loved it, but when she'd spotted Rhys on the hall of the airport in Velaris, she'd realized just how much she had missed him. He must have felt the same way, because he had barely left her side since then, spending every minute not at work cuddling her, touching her, kissing her.

“I was thinking,” he spoke, making her jolt at the sudden noise. “This weekend, I have to go up to the mountain for the inauguration of one of the libraries, maybe you'd like to come with me?”

“To the Illyrian camps?”

“Yes, I'm leaving Saturday and coming back Sunday afternoon.”

“Oh I would have loved to, but my mom is coming to Velaris and I'm having dinner with her on Saturday.”

“Your mom is coming?”

“Yes, she's meeting with some friends of hers and we arranged a dinner, because I haven't seen her in a while.” Since before she'd broken up with Tamlin, actually. She hadn’t found the courage to go up to her parents’ house since then, and her conversations with them had been brief on the phone after the first time she’d called to tell them about the breakup. Her father had been sad, but her mother had pestered her for details, insisting that maybe she should give him another chance, and simply losing interest when Feyre had refused to explain what had happened between them. But it had been months since then, and she hoped her mother had understood by now that she wasn’t going to get back together with him.

“Then I guess I'll have to take you up the camps for the next inauguration in a few months,” Rhys murmured in her ear, and she smiled at the idea that he was talking about ‘them’ a few months down the road. She probably should've felt uncomfortable at the idea of planning some kind of future so far ahead,  but she didn't. It didn't feel forced between them, it came naturally, and she  _ could _ imagine herself with him months later.

“I'd like that.”

 

***

 

The restaurant was one of the most in vogue of Velaris. Not surprising, seeing as her mother had chosen it, and she would love being seen eating here, among the wealthiest and most influential citizens of the city. Feyre restrained a laugh at the memory of Rhys, who could certainly be counted as a member of this upper-class crowd, seated on her bed and eating indian food directly from the box. Her mother would surely be mortified if she knew her daughter had made the future CEO of the Night Court eat in such conditions.

“Feyre, are you listening to me?”

She was brought back to reality by her mother's sharp tone.

“Sorry mom, I'm listening. What were you saying?”

“I was talking about your apartment.”

“Right. I told you already, I'm not going to move out. I'm barely managing to pay the rent for this one, so I'm not going to look for something else.”

“Yes, I know. But I've been thinking that maybe you could move back to Springfield for a while. There are good job opportunities there, and you could find a cheaper apartment to live in.”

“I don't want to move back to Springfield. I like living here, I like this city, I have a life here. And I doubt you saw good job opportunities for an illustrator in Springfield.”

“Well, not exactly, no. But you could change fields, maybe find something a bit more… stable?”

When her parents had been freshly reunited, her mother had admitted to her that she was afraid Feyre didn't have a secured enough situation for herself. And when Feyre and Tamlin had moved in together, she’d said that she was glad her daughter had found such an amazing man to take care of her. Feyre had laughed but had been glad that her mother had stopped pestering her to find another job. But apparently, now that she'd left Tamlin, the subject was back on the table.

“Maybe I don't want another job. And actually, I wanted to talk to you about it. I was in New York last week to meet some people about a project, I signed a contract with them to illustrate a series of books. It's going to get me as steady salary for at least eight years.”

“Oh Feyre, that's wonderful! Are you going to have to move to New York then?”

“No, I negotiated this part with them. I'll be working from my office in Velaris, and we'll have meetings every three months or so, once here and once there.”

“Oh that's good then.”

They ate their dessert in silence, a delicious chocolate mousse that reminded Feyre of the homemade chocolate cake a certain boyfriend of hers had made for her.

Right. Her boyfriend.

“Mom?”

“Yes sweetie?” Her mother had never called her  _ sweetie _ before she left, and had started only when she'd come back to them. Apparently, she thought giving her daughters cute nicknames would help make up for nearly ten years of abandonment. But Feyre didn't say anything about the nickname.

“I… I met someone.” Her voice came out more joyful than what she'd intended, and she smiled broadly. Her mom kept on eating her ice-cream, and barely looked up at her.

“You did?”

“Yes, about a month ago. His name is Rhysand, he's really nice. He works in…”

“Have I told you about Elain’s birthday party yet?”

“Mom.”

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I was talking.”

“Oh I'm sorry, I thought you were finished.”

“Yeah,  _ ‘he's works in’ _ was definitely the end of my sentence.”

“I'm sorry, I just don't want to hear about some man I know is not going to stick.”

“ _ ‘To stick’ _ ? And why wouldn't he ‘stick’, as you say?”

“Well because, sweetie, you're obviously going to get back together with Tamlin soon enough.”

She felt like her heart had stopped. Or maybe it was racing in her chest.

“I'm not going to get back together with him. Ever.”

“Oh please sweetie, this whole ‘leaving him and taking an apartment alone’ business is just a phase you're going through. You'll wake up at some point and realize you made a mistake. I'm sure he'll be willing to take you back once you're ready. I just don't want you to break another man's heart in the process, that's all.”

“Stop calling me ‘sweetie.’ And I'm not going through a phase, I'm not going to  _ wake up _ , and I'm certainly not going to break up with Rhys. He is ten times the man Tamlin ever was.”

“I'm sure he's nice, but let's be honest, can he offer you the same life you could have with Tamlin?”

“The life I had with Tamlin is not the life I want. He wanted me to be his trophy wife, staying at home, planning parties for his friends and popping out children.”

“And living in a minuscule apartment in a poor neighborhood is better than this?”

“At least it's a life I chose for myself. And it's better than getting abused and attacked in your own house.” The words came out before she knew it. She hadn't meant to tell her mother about that night. But now there was no going back, because her mom had finally stopped eating her dessert to look at her.

“What did you say?”

 

***

 

So Feyre told her. It was long and difficult, but she told her of the engagement ring, of her panicking and telling Tamlin everything she'd been feeling. She told her about him screaming at her and cornering her against the glass cabinet. She told her about fleeing to Alis’ house.

But when she looked up at her mother's eyes, she didn't find pity or rage. She found… she didn't know what it was, but it made her stomach turn. Finally, her mother spoke, in a soft, sweet voice that didn’t help reassure her:

“Feyre, sweetie, I'm so sorry you feel that way about what happened. But… you can't go around accusing him of having abused you. He went a little overboard, and I understand now why you left that night. But it's not like he sent you to the hospital or something. It feels like you're exaggerating a little.”

She didn't answer, she wasn't sure she would ever have words in her mind again, other than the ones her mother had just spoken.  _ You're exaggerating. _ The words she'd been afraid to hear, the ones that had her keep her story silent for so many months. Telling Rhysand had been liberating, and she'd thought her mother would react as he had. But she was wrong, and now the world was crumbling around her. But she didn't have the energy to contradict her, didn't know if she cared what her mom thought. She looked down to her plate and managed to let out a soft “I don't want to talk about it any longer.”

Her mom seemed relieved to drop the subject and kept on rambling about Elain’s coming birthday party. But Feyre didn't register everything, and the words kept on ringing in her ears.  _ You're exaggerating _ .


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! So, I want to apologize in advance, this chapter is reaaaaally short. But it was a necessary scene, and it just works on his own, I can’t link it with any other chapter because it’s very important (I think so, anyway ^^).
> 
> I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, and as always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, sharing! xx

 

_ Rhys, 16:32 - Hey Darling, are you busy? I just arrived from the camps, I was thinking of stopping by your place if you're home? _

 

Feyre stared at her phone for about a minute, before typing an answer.

 

_ 18:04 - Hey, sorry I was asleep.  _

 

She'd been sleeping all day, not having the energy to get out of bed, even to eat something or open her curtains.

 

_ Rhys, 18:06 - No problem. Do you want me to come? I'm at home doing nothing right now, and I miss you. _

 

Did she want him to see her like that? She'd cried herself to sleep the night before, her night punctuated by nightmares of glass shattering under her feet and a tall blonde faceless man choking her. She hadn't eaten all day and didn't want to get up, even to see him. But she did miss him.

 

_ 18:08 - I don't feel well, I wouldn’t want to bother you.  _

 

_ Rhys, 18:10 - You couldn't bother me if you tried. I'm coming, and I'm bringing some food. See you in a while. _

 

***

 

He knocked softly and waited for her to invite him in. She never locked her door when she was inside, even at night, and he pushed it open at the sound of her voice. All the lights were out, and she was buried under her quilt.

“Feyre?” He kept his voice low as he set down the food he'd brought - a lamb stew, tradition in the Illyrian camps during a party - and sat down beside her. She groaned and he felt her move closer to him, but she didn't emerge.

“Are you feeling okay?”

The covers moved and he saw the top of her head come out, but nothing more, and her voice was hoarse when she said: “no.”

He brushed her hair and she surfaced a bit more, her eyes red and swollen.

“Can I get you anything?”

She stayed silent for a while and he thought she was sleeping again when she whispered: “A hug?”

He smiled, took off his shoes and jacket, and slid inside the bed. She was only wearing underpants, and he took her into his arms, holding her against him. She didn't seem to have a fever.

“What's going on, Feyre? You told me you weren't well, do you need to see a doctor?”

“I'm not sick, I just… I feel heavy.”

He tugged her closer, not really knowing what to say.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't know.” After a moment, she said: “Tell me about your weekend.”

“It went well. I drove up there with Azriel, my dad and my sister. My dad agreed to take her for the weekend, so she was thrilled and couldn't stop talking the whole time.” Feyre let out a breath that might have been a chuckle, and he continued. “We inaugurated the library in the afternoon, but the inauguration in itself was pretty boring, mainly a speech from my dad and the chief of the camp. The evening was good though, they had prepared a full traditional Illyrian feast and it was delicious. And then this morning I went to the library with Lyra and the other girls of the camp to check out some books and show them around, and then we drove home.” He didn't add that for the entire drive home, Lyra had spoken only of how wonderful it would be to live in the camps for a summer, and that their father had ignored her for the first five hours, and had pestered about her being too undisciplined to be left alone for the last two. Feyre looked overwhelmed enough not to be forced to endure his own family drama. “I brought you stew from the feast. I remembered you enjoyed the lamb during our first date, I thought you'd like it.”

“Thank you.” And then the world was quiet again. Rhys felt his eyelids grow heavy, and he was about to fall asleep when she said:

“I told my mom about what had happened with Tamlin.” He was wide awake in a second.

“Oh?”

“Yes. It went… badly.”

“What do you mean? Didn't she… She did believe you, didn’t she?”

“Sort of. She didn't think I was lying, but she said… She said that I shouldn't use the word ‘abuse’ to describe what he'd done because it wasn't as if he'd sent me to a hospital. She said - she said I was exaggerating.”

Anger flooded his mind. Her own mother had said that to her, had reduced her suffering to nothing. Feyre had found the courage to open up to her and she hadn't been able to react as a mom should. She'd undermined her story and had brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Feyre, you know that's not true, right?” Her silence went on for too long. “Darling, your mother is wrong, and I know it's horrible that she's not believing you, but she’s wrong. And you were really brave to tell her.”

“Talking about it again, I thought it would help me feel better, but it didn't. I feel… I don't know how I feel. But I'm glad you're here.”

“Anytime.” And because he sensed her smile against his neck, he added: “Plus, any chance to see you naked and I'm in!”

She laughed. “I missed you this weekend.”

“I missed you too.” And he'd thought about her all day, about her stunning eyes and the sound of her laugh, about the easy way she'd made friends with his sister, and how passionate she was about her job. He'd thought about holding her against him under the mountain sky, about telling her stories of his people, and making love to her in his favorite retreat, a secluded cave where they could stay alone for days without being bothered. But he didn't tell her that either, instead he simply tightened his embrace on her, hoping that the giant wave of love he felt for her could help her somehow.

 

***

 

She didn't eat that night, but she fell asleep against Rhys and didn't have a single nightmare.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! Chapter 20 is here, I hope you’ll enjoy it :) Thank you so much for the likes and comments, it means the world!

Rhysand’s birthday was in three days, and she still hadn't found a proper gift for him. Looking through the shelves of the bookshop, Feyre let her thoughts drift back to the weekend before. After a night spent sleeping peacefully in his arms, she'd woken up to find making breakfast on her stove, and she'd realized that she wouldn’t mind waking up to the sight of him everyday. So now there she was, trying to find a perfect gift for his birthday, something that would say how much she cared about him, without her actually having to say anything.

Of course, there was her  _ other _ present, the thing she'd planned to wear to bed that night, and that she was pretty sure would not disappoint him. But that was more of a one time thing, and she wanted to offer him something meaningful. Besides, they were going to have dinner with his family, so she couldn't very well appear in flimsy underwear there.

Dinner with his family. Which meant his parents would be here, as well as his second foster brother, Azriel. But at least she'd know Cassian, Mor and his sister, so she wouldn't be a total stranger. She'd tried to tell him to spend the evening with his family only, that they'd only been dating for less than two months and she didn't mind waiting to see him later. But he was having none of it. He had answered that she was talking nonsense, that it didn't matter how long they had been dating, he wanted her there with him for his birthday. And she hadn't resisted his pleading eyes. And she needed a good gift.

But there, on the shelf, sitting untouched and dusty, was an old edition of “The call of the wild” his favorite book. The date was 1928, far from a first edition - which she couldn’t have afforded anyway - but the cover was beautiful, and the book was in very good shape. She looked at the price and - let's say if this was the price for a book edited 25 years after the first edition, she  _ definitely _ couldn't have bought that one. But she bit her lip, thinking of how he'd been there for her when she'd felt like nobody would, thinking of how much her heart seemed flustered when he was around. And she knew he was going to love it, and now that she spotted it, she wanted him to have it, so she took it out of the shelf and brought it to the register.

 

***

 

Rhysand finished arranging the table of the dining room, trying not to bother the waiters coming in and out of the kitchen. He'd wanted a quiet dinner at home with his family, but his mother had insisted: “You're turning 29, Rhysand, we're not going to share a piece of pizza over your sink. At least if you want to do it at your house, I'm hiring a caterer.” His wish for something simple had been overlooked too, and he'd had to call Feyre that morning to tell her to come all dressed up. She hadn't seemed to mind, so that was a good point, at least one of them wasn’t anxious at the thought of her meeting his parents - he wasn't worried of what she would think if Azriel, his brother had a way of charming people when he wanted to.

The doorbell rang and he hurried out of the dining room to answer it. He'd told Feyre to come early, wanting her to welcome his family with him. He opened the door and his breath caught at the sight of her. 

“You look… beautiful,” he managed to get out. Feyre smiled back at him, and her eyes seemed to say  _ “I know I do.” _ He bent down to kiss her and invited her inside. In the light of the hall, she was even more exquisite, with her hair held up in a loose bun, some free strands encircling her face, and long white earrings illuminating the curve of her neck. She was wearing a pale blue gown with short sleeves, that was covering her body from shoulders to ankles. She deposited her unusually large handbag on a small desk near the door and turned to him once more, holding up her arms and twirling. 

“What do you think?”

“Of your dress? It's perfect, you're… perfect.”

She laughed. “Maybe ‘perfect’ is a bit of a stretch!”

_ It's really not _ , he thought, taking in the curves of her body and the brightness of her smile. But he laughed and took her in his arms, because he didn't trust himself with speech when she was so amazingly charming in front of him.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered into his ear, kissing his jawbone softly.

“Thank you,” he answered, and took a small step back to look at her again.

“At what time is your family arriving?”

“In about half an hour.”

Right about enough time to take her upstairs and discover how quickly he could take that gown off her and…

She must have read his thoughts because she said:

“uh-huh, not happening. I borrowed this dress and I won't take the risk of you ripping it.”

“So I'm not allowed to undress my girlfriend on my birthday!?”

The smile she gave him was wicked and full of promise. “Bold of you to assume I haven't planned something for you to take off of me later.”

“Oh… Well then why don't we go upstairs and…”

“Later. I don't want to be disheveled when I meet you parents. And don't give me that look, I won't say  _ yes _ .”

“Are you nervous, darling?”

“About meeting your parents? Absolutely! Why do you think I bothered to find a gown that sophisticated?”

“I thought it was for me.”

“I remember the way you ogled me when I was wearing my midnight blue dress, I know you like it on me. I wanted something classier for your parents.”

“Well you look amazing. And I didn't  _ ‘ogle’ _ you that night.”

“Oh please, you were as subtle as a teenage boy!”

He laughed and said: “Sorry,” as he led her into the dining room.

“I really didn't mind.”

“Anyway, I'm sure my parents are going to love you.”  _ How could they not when I do so much? _

“I hope so.”

“They will. My sister already talked you up to them.”

“She did? What did she say? ‘I met Rhysand’s girlfriend, she wears old jeans and makes horrible pancakes’?”

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.” And he knew her confident air was a facade, so he added: “I don't know what she said, but when my mom called me yesterday about the caterer, she sounded really excited to meet you.”

That didn't seem to reassure her, but looking at her fussing about the table arrangement, he knew his parents were going to be as enchanted as him. He just hoped she would like them too.

 

***

 

Feyre was seated on Rhysand’s right side, handsome in a dark blue suit, his father and mother in front of them. Cassian had claimed the seat on her right, with Azriel beside him and Lyra and Morrigan on the other side of the table. She'd been talking with Cassian about her trip to New York, but now he was laughing loudly to something Azriel had said. She took all of them in once more. Rhys’ mother was undoubtedly Illyrian, with brown skin, long black hair and hazel eyes. When her and Mor had entered, Feyre hadn't regretted her idea to borrow a dress from Clare. They were both wearing magnificent gowns that fitted them perfectly, as if handmade for the occasion. But Mor had been as friendly as the first time they'd met, hugging her and presenting her to her aunt as if Feyre was her best friend. And his mother - Alina - had been nothing but delighted to meet her. His father… it'd been something else. He'd been polite, shaking her hand and inquiring about her well-being, but he seemed cold, colder than she'd imagined, seeing how welcoming his children were. Feyre had recognized the deep blue of his eyes for the one she knew so much in his son, but for the rest of him, he looked nothing like them. He was tall, with blonde hair that reminded her of Mor, and his smile was the opposite of soft, almost cruel despite his polite words.

Azriel, Cassian and Lyra had come in afterwards, Lyra chatting incessantly and only stopping a second to kiss her on both cheeks, and Cassian following after her, rolling his eyes. Azriel had saluted her politely, and when he'd extended his hands, she'd taken in the burnt spots on his skin. She'd known about it, but was still shook at the sight.  _ ‘He was burnt irreversibly by his family before my mother took him in, cigarette marks.’ _ Rhys had explained to her one afternoon. She didn't know the extent of what had happened to him, but he'd given her the most obvious details  _ ‘so that you're not surprised when you meet him.’ _ Tonight, Azriel had been kind, speaking rarely but always having a witty comment to offer that made Mor snort, and offering Feyre discreet winks and smiles of encouragement when Rhysand’s father had seemed uninterested in her. Throughout the dinner, she'd lost a bit of the stress she'd had at meeting her boyfriend's parents.

“Feyre, you were telling Cassian about New York?” Alina’s voice got Feyre out of her thoughts and she turned  back to her. Beside her, Rhys was in deep conversation with his father about some investment, but his hand squeezed her knee under the table, reassuring.

“Yes, I went to New York two weeks ago for work.”

“Was it your first time there? Did you like it?”

“It was my first time, and I didn't really get to visit, but I did like it.”

“Oh it’s a lovely city. I fell in love with it the first time my husband brought me there. I think Rhys told you I grew up in the mountains?”

“He did.”

“Well, we stayed in New York for a week when we came back from our honeymoon in Greece, and I fell in love with this city. There are just so many things to do.”

“I'll have to go to New York every six month for work, so I'm hoping to make some time to visit at some point.”

“Let me know when you go and I'll give you all the good tips!”

“I would love that.”

Feyre’s answering smile was genuine. After meeting his mother, it was pretty clear where Rhys had gotten his kindness. She radiated affection and joy, and it just felt like nothing could go wrong around her. The woman was in her sixties, but she seemed younger, stirring with energy.

“Then it will be my pleasure. I'll have Rhysand give me your number.”

At the sound of his name, Rhys turned to them.

“Are you ladies talking about me?”

“We are, and it's none of your business. Just lend me your phone so I can take this wonderful woman's number from it.”

Rhys shook his head but grinned at his mother and handed her his phone. He kissed Feyre on the temple and whispered: “I think my mom loves you, she has like ten numbers saved on her phone.” Feyre laughed but felt herself blushing. He kissed her once more and went back to the conversation with his father.

 

***

 

The meal had been splendid, and the cake enormous, covered with beautiful icing and 29 white candles that Rhys had blown out loudly. He had opened his presents afterwards, laughing at Mor’s awful set of violet towels, thanking his parents for the beautiful watch, and actually not finding words when opening Feyre’s present to him. He'd told her it was his favorite book the night they'd met, and they'd never talked about it since. And she'd found this beautiful edition to offer him, nearly two months later. He'd kissed her and whispered ‘thank you’ against her lips, the words too few to express  what he felt for her.

His parents left first, dragging Lyra behind them at around eleven o'clock, claiming she was already lucky they'd brought her along on a school night when she was still grounded. Cassian, Mor and Azriel stayed with them to crack open the whiskey Azriel had offered him, and they went home only when Mor started snoring on Feyre’s shoulder.

He had to admit that he was a bit intoxicated when he closed the door behind them, laughing at seeing the three of them stumble over to the taxi. He turned around and found Feyre smiling at him.

“Gods, you're gorgeous,” he said to her, crushing her into his chest. She laughed.

“And you are so drunk!”

“Am not.”

“You're so drunk you can't even form entire sentences!”

He looked at her and focused his mind long enough to say: “I am not drunk, my Lady, and I will prove it to you.”

“And how will you prove it?”

“I don't know, I remember mention of something you were going to wear for my enjoyment. I could take it off you.”

“Oh. But that was for your birthday. And we're well past midnight now.”

He gave her his most offended look at started to climb the stairs, but she laughed and ran in front of him with the bag she'd brought. When he reached his bedroom, the bathroom door was closed.

“How is it supposed to be a present for me if you're hiding, Darling?”

“I'm  _ changing _ , you dofus! Stay in the bedroom.”

He took off his shoes and socks and lounged on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He was  _ not _ intoxicated. Not too much anyway, not to the point of not being able to enjoy a night with Feyre. As if she'd heard him think her name, the bathroom door opened. He turned to her, and his mind stopped working. She was wearing an ensemble of red lingerie that barely covered anything, with assorted stockings held up on her thighs by garters. She'd let her hair down, and had removed the makeup she'd had at dinner, only to apply red lipstick on her mouth. She was, she was…

“I am going to eat you alive.”

She gave him a wicked smile in answer and advanced towards the bed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!NSFW chapter!!!  
>  Sooooo. We kind of left things at a… critical moment last week!! So yeah, you probably guessed it, this is kind of a smutty chapter ^^ I'm serious, this chapter has zero plot, only sexy times hahaha it's a bit different than the last NSFW one I wrote, so I hope you'll like this sort of smut!  
> Also, I forgot to add this to my notes last week: if you follow me on Tumblr, you might have seen the post where I said that I have a final countdown on this fic!!! It's going to be a total of 25 chapters + 1 epilogue, so we're slowly nearing the end. I’m not sure I’ll publish next week, I’m going to try to, but with the holidays and my work, I don’t know if I’ll find the time, so the next update might be a bit late, I’m sorry ^^’  
> I do have another Feysand project in mind for after this fic is over, much more… angsty, and dark, and slowburn! I don't have a release date yet, I’m still working out the plot, but I'm hoping to start publishing not too long after the end of this fic.  
> Anyway, enjoy this plotless chapter, and thanks for commenting and all!! :)

“I am going to eat you alive.”

And from the look he gave her, he was ready to do it. She grinned at him and advanced slowly towards the bed, aware of what every movement of her body looked like with the ensemble on.

When she'd tried it out at the shop, she'd been so nervous, noticing every detail of her body that wasn't perfect, fearing he might laugh at seeing her wear something like that. But the way his eyes were devouring her, moving around her body as if he couldn't get enough of her in that flimsy outfit, she knew he wasn't going to laugh at her. He'd sat up on the side of the bed when he'd seen her, and she stopped moving once she was standing between his legs. He once again looked at her from head to toe, and whispered: “You’re so sexy.”

She waited for heat to overtake her cheeks, waited for the urge to cover herself up. But she _was_ sexy. And she _was_ beautiful. She didn't have a reason to hide from him when he looked at her that way.

He raised his hands and his fingers grazed against her thighs, her waist. He tugged on her waist and advanced his head to kiss her, but she resisted and put a finger on his lips.

“Not that fast, mister.” He frowned and she only smiled at him. “I didn't say you could touch me.”

“I thought you were my birthday present,” he answered in an almost offended voice, but his lips twitched up.

“Oh I am. But I get to decide when you can have me. And you're well too overdressed yet.”

And she gently placed her hands on his chest, grabbed the sides of the jacket he was wearing, and took it off him. She came back to his chest and, fixating her eyes to his, she took out his vest button by button, before discarding it on top of the jacket. She then tugged on his tie, and took her time sliding it over his head, plunging her hands onto his hair and massaging him. He closed his eyes and moaned under her touch, forcing her to restrain a grin. She waited for him to open his eyes again, before starting to run her fingers down his body and gripping the buckle of his belt in a sharp movement. He gasped and bit his lip, his hand tightening on her waist, but she shook her head. _Not yet._ The belt fell on the floor with a loud noise that broke a bit of the tension building between them, and Feyre let out a chuckle.

“You're killing me, Feyre,” Rhys whispered, and he sounded as if every word was a struggle, as if restraining himself from jumping on her was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

“I know. Don't you like it?”

“I love it.” His mouth opened again as if he was about to add something else, but he didn’t say anything, and she started to unbutton his shirt, the tension rising again when she passed her hands across his beautiful tattooed skin to get the shirt off.

Once he was half-naked on the bed, she kneeled in front of him and he smiled, letting her take off his pants and underpants. She locked her eyes to his, and took him into her mouth. He groaned but didn't look away from her, his breathing getting faster and more erratic as time went on to. Feyre herself couldn't contain a moan when he gripped her hair and started to softly guide her movements. She was burning, and she clenched her legs together to try and restrain from touching herself. He let her go on for a long while before she heard him speak.

“Feyre,” she didn't acknowledge him. “Feyre you need to stop.” But he didn't sound like he _wanted_ her to stop. And she didn't really want to.

“Feyre,” he repeated, gently guiding her away from him and forcing her to look at him, “What you're doing is absolutely amazing,” she smiled, “but I don't want to finish like that. I want to touch you too tonight.” He must have seen her hesitate because he raised an eyebrow and said “I recall mention of me taking off _your_ marvelous little outfit.”

She laughed at his argument, got up and stood in front of him, suddenly extremely self-conscious. But he grabbed her and said “Come here,” sitting her on his lap. She could feel every inch of him under her, and instinctively started grinding against him.

“You mischievous woman,” he said before he pushed her away from him again to ease her on the bed. His hands were roaming across her belly again, and this time, she didn't tell him to stop. He kissed her belly button while his hands traveled south to caress her thighs and play with the top of her stockings.

“These are very, very tempting, I'm going to enjoy taking them off you,” and then he stopped talking, and started licking his way down her belly to her thighs until he met the garter. He untied the first stocking and took it between his teeth. He proceeded to slowly, very slowly, slide the stockings down her leg, the left one, then the right one, exploring her burning skin every step of the way.

“Feyre, you are so beautiful,” he repeated, and he got up from her, looking at her with a look that consumed her whole. “Feyre, I…” and he bit his lips and made her sit down, kissing her fully. “I am very glad I met you.”

Her ensemble of lingerie was quick to join his suit after that. The desire became less urgent, but no less passionate, and Rhys kissed her again, sliding his hands across her back to take off her bra in a swift move. She was still burning everywhere he touched her, but the fire was slower, more intense after the words he’d said to her. Taking his face between her hands, Feyre kissed him fully, and put everything she felt into that kiss, pulling him towards her as she lay down on the bed. She could feel his body on top of hers, hovering just a few inches away, warm and strong, inviting. She slid her legs around his waist and guided him to her center. She just wanted to feel him, and the slightest graze they shared was almost enough to send her over the edge. Her hands left his face to caress his hair, his shoulders, all the way to the small of his back, where she started pushing him closer to her. His lips still toying with hers, Rhysand laughed.

“Calm down, Darling, we need something first.” Without taking her eyes from his, she felt him reach for the bedside table, rip the condom wrapper open, quickly draw away from her, only to come back seconds later. She was still looking into his eyes when he entered her and started to move in rhythm with her hips, unable to look away from the deep violet she’d come to love, from the small flecks of silver that looked like tiny shooting stars. He seemed as fascinated as her, his eyes roaming her face just as his hands were grabbing her legs, pulling them higher on his back. This new angle only deepened their union, and Feyre couldn’t help but scratch his back more strongly than she’d intended at first. But he moaned at that, a wonderful sound quickly followed by a chuckle as he thrust harder into her. She gasped, her legs tightening around him, determined not to let him get away from her for too long. Still, for all the pleasure she was feeling, she couldn't close her eyes. She couldn’t look away from his beautiful face, contorted with pleasure and focus and affection. She started to feel her own pleasure rising inside her, and as she looked into his eyes, his last words played in her head. _“I am very glad I met you.”_ She knew what it meant. She wasn’t ready to admit it, she wasn’t even ready to _think_ it, but she knew what he was telling her with this. She tore away from his lips to bring his face to her neck, and as she felt every thrust bringing her closer to her orgasm, she hung on to his back harder, letting herself be lost in the pleasure of him inside her, of his tongue brushing her neck, and his breath caressing her ear. She didn’t restrain the loud moan that came out of her when their release hit them in unison.

Rhysand continued to gently thrust inside her through the last waves of her climax, and as she slowly started to relax and catch her breath, he moved his head just enough to have their eyes meet again. She could see the exhaustion in them, as well as the pure joy his own release had brought him.

Finally, with a groan, he rolled away from her to take off the condom, and then settled on the bed, on his side, facing her. He took her in his arms and started stroking her gently, closing his eyes with a contented smile. But Feyre couldn't take her eyes off his face, his eyes closed and his hands caressing her back, still hearing what he'd told her. _I'm very glad I met you_.

“Rhys?”

“Mmmh?”

“I'm very glad I met you, too.” He opened his eyes. “And I'm glad I worked up the courage to give you my number that night.”

He smiled and tightened his embrace on her.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when I warn you the next chapter might take a while, but then I end up finishing it a day before it was even supposed to be posted XD I hope you love it too!! We’re slowly nearing the end of the fic, only a few updates to go… Thank you so much for reading and commenting as always, and happy new year for everybody!!! <3 :)

More than two weeks had passed since Rhys’ birthday dinner, and the heated night that had followed. But this afternoon, even the memories of that night couldn't stop Feyre from being nervous. It was Friday, and they were driving on the highway, going down to Springfield for the weekend.

Her mother had organized a party for Elain’s birthday, and even though the date was tomorrow, they were supposed to arrive on Friday evening and leave Sunday afternoon. The party was organized on a small estate located on an island off the coast, so they were to take a ferry after the car. The estate was owned by Elain’s fiancé, Graysen, overall a decent man but with an extremely strict father that Feyre could barely stand to talk to. And he'd apparently invited many of his business partners to the party, because he wanted his son to meet them, Elain had told her on the phone the night before. Her sister hadn't seemed thrilled about the weekend either.

 

_ “At what time do you think you'll be there?” _

_ “I don't know, I took the day off but Rhysand gets out of work around two, so we won't leave before at least three in the afternoon. Then it's a four hour drive to Springfield so we won't arrive before seven, I think.” _

_ “That's pretty late, be careful with the ferries, there aren't a lot of them at night. Plus with all the people Nolan invited sleeping here, it would be better if you two didn’t arrive too late.” _

_ “How many are they?” _

_ “About twenty in town, but just a few coming to the island. Apparently mom offered to help him decide which one.” _

_ “Since when is mom an expert on business meetings?” _

_ “She said she knew most of them personally and could give him insight, whatever that means. I hope they’ll leave on Saturday morning though, if they’re only here to meet with Graysen, I’d rather it not spoil the whole weekend for us. I really don’t see why they had to meet this particular weekend.” _

_ “I’m sure they won’t stay long.” _

_ “I don’t even see the point of this big reunion anyway, we could have just ate together in Springfield, it would have been much simpler to organize. Plus Nesta wouldn’t be so angry at me because I apparently  _ forced  _ her to spend a weekend with mom.” _

_ “She’s still mad, huh?” _

_ “At mom? Yes, and I don’t think she’s on the verge of calming down any time soon, she yelled at her twice on the phone this week alone. I mean, I know what mom did, leaving us and all, was really bad, but Nesta should have forgiven her by now… It’s been almost a year now since she came back, it’s time for all of us to move on and be a family again.” _

 

The conversation had then moved on to how hard it must have been for their mother, and Feyre hadn't dared bring up her feelings, not wanting to sound bitter and telling Elain that frankly, she didn't care how hard it could have been.

Besides, the words her mother had spoken to her on their dinner were still ringing loud and clear inside her head, waking her up at night and sapping her energy in the middle of the day.  _ You're exaggerating _ . She knew, deep down, that her mother was in the wrong about Tamlin, but it hurt so much to know what she thought. And it shouldn't have. When her mother had left them all those years ago, Feyre had spent months yearning for her presence, mourning for her, but then she'd had to work after school and she'd just stopped caring about her. When she'd come back into their lives almost a year earlier, Feyre had told herself that it didn't change anything, that she didn't need her mother's approval in her life, but she'd still craved for it in spite of her best efforts. She wasn't like Nesta, who had ignored her return like it was nothing, despising her mother to this day. And she wasn't like Elain, who'd welcomed her back as if she'd been gone to the grocery store. Seeing her mother still made her so happy and so mad at the same time, it was hard to imagine an entire weekend in her company.

They quickly ate dinner at a drive-through and arrived at the dock barely in time to catch the last ferry out of Springfield, and the ferry ride calmed her down a nudge, the smell of the sea and the light of the sunset helping her nerves. It was night when they reached the shore, and headed to the family estate, one of the five spread out on the island, surrounded by pine forests.

They passed the security guard at the entrance and approached the giant white house that seemed to be bustling with life. Rhys pointed out to a small opened shed beside the house, where were stored what looked like bags of… fabric?

“Tents. And mattresses and sleeping bags. They must go camping sometimes here. Maybe I'll take you this weekend, take your camping virginity,” he winked at her and, rolling her eyes, she opened her mouth to answer him.

“Rhysand?!”

They turned around to find a short man coming for them, probably in his sixties, a burning cigarette in his hand.

“Mark? Hi,” Rhys answered, and then whispered to Feyre “You should go ahead. He's one of my father's old business partners.”

She nodded and turned towards the house, having the time to hear the beginning of their conversation. 

“I didn't know you were working with Nolan, you secretive boy.”

“I'm not, my girlfriend is Elain’s sister.”

“Who?”

“Elain? The girl whose birthday is tomorrow?”

“Oh right, I thought you…”

She didn’t hear the rest as the door closed behind her. The hall of the house was… weird. Somehow welcoming, with its large windows and light marble floor, but very impersonal, not one decoration adorning the walls. Not one flower. Feyre had a hard time imagining her outdoorsy sister fitting in this house, trying to make it her own, even just for vacations. But Elain had chosen her fiancé, and she seemed to love him. There was just hoping she would be okay after her wedding.

“Feyre, sweetie,” her mother's voice resonated from the room where she came out of with her two sisters. Elain was beautiful, wearing a cobalt woolen dress that would have brought out her eyes if she hadn't looked so somber and nervous. Nesta, in her usual pantsuit, seemed downright furious, there was no other word for it. Only their mother was beaming as she approached. 

“What's going on, you guys?” Feyre asked, letting her mother hug her.

“Oh it’s nothing, sweetie, they're just a bit cranky over the guest list for the weekend, that’s all. How are you, did you have a good trip?”

“Not bad, we drove down this afternoon.” She moved on to hug Elain, who seemed so anxious that she forgot to hug her back. “We barely caught the ferry, though! A few more minutes and we would have had to find a hotel for the night.”

She was on her way to hug Nesta when the next words her mother spoke had her stopping. Not the word, per se, but the tone, surprised, cold and angry.

“‘We’?”

Feyre turned around. “Yes, ‘we’, me and my boyfriend, Rhysand. I told you about him last month at dinner.”

“You… brought him here?”

“Well, yeah.  The invitation said ‘plus one’ and I confirmed with Elain yesterday.”

“That's what I've been trying to tell you, mom,” Elain said softly from beside her sister. 

“Why? Is there a problem? Wasn't he invited?”

“Oh, our  _ dear mother _ had some other plan in mind.” And Feyre could feel the pure hatred in Nesta’s words. “She didn't plan that you'd bring a man and ruin her weekend.”

“Nesta, you can't talk to me like that.”

“Well, you can't abandon three children all of a sudden but you did,” and Nesta stormed upstairs without letting her mother answer.

But Elain stayed beside her, and whispered: “Feyre, I had no idea he was going to be here. Mom and Nolan handled the guest list and I just arrived and found him here…”

“Who? Who's here?”

And the voice that answered sent chill down her spine, as if the glass cabinet was chattering behind her all over again.

“Feyre,” Tamlin’s soft voice resonated behind her.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m going to keep my intro short because I’m sure you’re all a bit anxious to read this one ^^ It’s a bit … different from what you might expect, so I hope you’re going to like it :)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading and commenting, it means the world!! xx

 

Her vision blurred, and she felt her entire body go still. This couldn't be happening. She had to be sleeping, her mind playing sick tricks on her in the middle of the night.

“Feyre,” he repeated, his tone pleading and commanding all at once. His voice was like an icy arrow piercing through her heart, and she remembered the last time she'd heard it, yelling at her, and then crying, begging for her to stay, for her not not leave him. To her own amazement, she managed to get out words, not to him, but to someone else, anyone else that would answer.

“What is he doing here?”

It was Elain who answered: “Graysen’s father invited him as a business partner. Feyre I learned about it tonight when he arrived, I wouldn't have allowed…”

“Feyre,” Tamlin’s advanced towards her, and she couldn't move, couldn't breathe or look away from his mesmerizing green eyes. “I need to talk to you, in private.”

She shook her head, her vision blurring,  but he was still approaching. Soon he was towering over her and he extended an arm. Gods, she wasn't ready for their skins to touch, for their bodies to be so close to one another. He was inches from her wrists now.

“Feyre, I need to…”

“Don't touch her.” A large hand gripped his wrist before he could reach her. Rhysand’s hand.

 

***

 

Rhys was boiling with rage. What her ex was doing here, he didn't know. And when he'd entered the hall and seen her standing in front of this tall man with long blonde hair, he'd wanted to let her handle it on her own. But she'd clearly entered a state of shock, and the man - Tamlin - had been nearly about to touch her when he'd moved. Like hell he was going to stand by and do nothing when Feyre looked so terrorized.

Now Rhys was holding his wrist and standing halfway between them. Tamlin slowly turned his eyes away from hers and looked at him with so much disdain that Rhys could have slapped him right then just to get rid of this expression.

“And who are  _ you? _ ”

“It's doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that Feyre clearly doesn't want you to touch her, so back off.”

“You don't get to tell me what to do when I don't know you. This doesn't concern you.”

It was Feyre who replied before he could, her voice hoarse and low, but still strong. “It does. He's my boyfriend.”

Tamlin’s entire face seemed to crumble at the word, but Rhys didn't feel any kind of smugness at that, he was only relieved to hear Feyre move away from him and towards her family.

“Elain, I want him gone, immediately.”

Her mother answered: “Feyre don't be so unreasonable, he's a guest here as much as you are, we're not kicking anyone out. There are no ferries left to go to the mainland, anyway.”

The tone her mother employed with her, as if she was a child having a tantrum… It angered him nearly more than seeing her ex here. Rhysand released Tamlin of his grip and moved closer to Feyre, but didn't take his eyes off him.

“I don't  _ care  _ that there are no boats. He can very well swim there for all I care. I won't spend another minute in the same house as him.”

“You really need to grow up, young girl. You tell me you're an adult but you're not mature enough to handle being with your ex-boyfriend for even one evening?! He won't be sleeping anywhere else than in this house.”

“You  _ know _ what he did to me!” Feyre yelled, and from the corner of his eyes, Rhys saw the frown in Elain’s face. She didn’t know. “I told you what he did to me and you still don't care! And you know what? I don't care if you think I'm immature, but if he's not going to leave, I am.”

“What are you going to do, sleep outside? It's an island, Feyre, don't be ridiculous.”

Feyre stopped for a second, then “You know what, I'd rather sleep outside than share a roof with him.” And with that, she stormed out of the hall.

Rhys didn't look at her mother, he only kept his eyes on Tamlin as he followed Feyre outside of the house. She was walking to the entrance of the property, almost running. Understanding that she indeed planned to sleep outside, he made a quick turn to the shelter where they'd seen the camping gear, grabbed a tent, a mat and a sleeping bag, and ran after her.

 

***

 

It was freezing outside, and Feyre walked without knowing where she was going. Feeling him so close to her had felt like the whole world was going dark, like the walls around them were closing in on her to crush her and make her disappear forever. Getting out of the house had been the only option, the safest one. And Rhys was behind her, following from a few feet away, probably wishing to leave her space. But she didn't want him away. She stopped walking and waited for him to catch up to her, then started walking again. She glanced sideways at him and saw he was wearing a few bags in his arms.

“What is all this?”

“It's some camping gear I took at the house.”

“You took… seriously?” She almost forgot to feel gloomy for a second.

“I'm not going to let you freeze your ass on the ground, Feyre.”

“... Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” he said with a soft smile. “Do you know where we're going, or are we just wandering about?”

“I'm wandering aimlessly. Sorry.”

“No problem. Might I suggest a camping spot?”

“Sure.”

“When we arrived, I saw a small bay over there,” he said, pointing east, “it will be protected from the wind, and tomorrow morning we’ll have the sun to warm us up.”

Right. It was the beginning of December, and even though the weather was warmer down in Springfield, they would be cold.

“You can go back to the house if you want,” she said.  _ Please don't leave me _ , she thought.

“No way.” They walked in silence for a moment, then “I think if I go back right now, I might punch your ex and yell at your mother. Him, I wouldn't mind, but I don't want your mother to hate me on our first meeting.”

Feyre could sense the restrain in his voice. She didn't answer, she didn't think she had the strength to talk about what had happened earlier. After a half hour walk on the road, they reached the beach on the small bay he’d seen, and Rhys told her she could sit down while he built up the tent.

“I can help you.”

“It's okay Darling, you're tired and cold, and I'd rather have it up quickly to start on the fire and warm you up. I promise I'll let you help the next time we go camping,” he finished with a wink.

She nodded, but she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to smile back at him, and he started with one of the bags. Soon, the small tent was up, with a thin mattress inside it. Rhys told her to sit in, draped the sleeping bag like a blanket around her, and went into the small forest to find enough wood for a fire.

All the while, Feyre felt like she was sleeping, and that nothing good could appear in this nightmare. She felt tired and empty, a cloud of terrible darkness enveloping her mind and body. Tamlin was here, on this island, so close to her that she could almost feel his green eyes on her, even on this beach. For most of the time since their breakup, she had hoped to never see him again. When she caught herself imagining a meeting with him though, she thought of herself as confident, sarcastic and witty. She would be spitting out clever remarks, put him in his place, make him admit that he’d been horrible to her, and finally, she would tell him about her new boyfriend. She would tell him how funny and gentle and amazing he was, how he was so much better for her and how she didn’t regret leaving Tamlin. She imagined herself strong. Certainly not the sobbing mess she'd been. But at the completely unexpected sight of him here, a place where she'd felt safe and happy minutes before, she'd been taken aback and had been incapable of even moving away. She shivered at the memory of his body so close to hers, and shook her head. She  _ had _ to think of something else.

Rhys came back, spent several minutes starting a fire close enough to the entry of the tent, and then hovered over it for even longer, getting it to start properly. He came to sit down behind her on the mattress, looped his arms around her, and she nestled against his chest. His head against hers, he said into her ear:

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

They didn't move, watching the fire burn in front of them, sparks flying up from it and burning away into the night sky, the stars bright and peaceful. Feyre looked at them, taking in the familiar constellations above their head. The sight helped her relax a nudge, as did the comfortable feeling of Rhys’ strong body against hers. For a while, the crackling of the fire was the only companion to their breaths.

“Talk to me,” she said, because she needed to hear his voice, to feel that she was not alone in the world.

“What do you want to talk about?”

She considered, then said: “Tell me an Illyrian story.”

“A story?”

“Your favorite one.”

He stayed silent for a while, and she thought he wasn't going to answer her. But then, “There is this legend told amongst the camps. It says that a long time ago, the Illyrians used to have wings.”

“Actual wings?”

“Yes, according to the stories, the Illyrians were winged warriors, mighty and strong, capable of fighting for hours in the sky. They adored their wings and flew as much as they could, roaming through the skies at night, dancing with the stars.”

“What kind of wings?”

“The versions differ, but generally they're described as membranous, sort of like bat wings.”

“So they were like... real-life batmen?”

He chuckled. “Yeah I guess so.”

“Cool. Tell me the rest.”

“It says that long ago, at the beginning of our people, we used to walk the Earth like all humans, and that the Gods, who knew of Illyrian boldness, had made us that way to keep us from their lands. But one warrior, a woman called Emerie, wanted to see more of the world, and once she had explored every territory of the lands, she set out to the land of the Gods. She braved many dangers before reaching their threshold, and by the time she got to them, they were impressed by her strength of mind and body. So instead of punishing her for her arrogance, they gave her one last test: she had to go into a magic forest, stay alive and unarmed, and retrieve an object long lost to them. If she conquished this quest, they would gift her people the strength of the gods.”

“This sounds like the Rite you told me about. She managed to retrieve it, didn't she?”

“The Rite is a recurring theme on Illyrian legends. And that's what the story says, yeah. So when Emerie came back to the realm of the Gods with the lost idol in hand, they granted her wings, so she could fly to them, and they said that every child born Illyrian would have wings, as long as they stayed a mighty and wise people. She came back to her camp flying, and she started teaching the younglings how to fly.”

Silence fell, and Feyre pictured a woman looking a bit like Rhysand’s mother, with big black wings spread on her back, teaching toddlers how to master their gift. She smiled as she imagined Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel flying around with tiny bat wings.

“So why don't you have wings now? How does the story end?”

“The endings aren't all the same.”

“What's your favorite?”

“The one my mother told me when I was a kid. The one the women tell.”

“Tell me.”

“They say that the Gods considered the Illyrians worthy of their gift for centuries, and our people prospered thanks to it. But as time went by, the clans forgot where the wings came from, and were arrogant once more. They stopped respecting their Gods, and more importantly, they stopped respecting their women. They took up a habit that’s called ‘clipping’ in the story: They were cutting a part of the women's wings to keep them from flying, impeding them from becoming warriors and keeping them on the ground. The legend says that the first day they clipped a woman in a camp, the first wingless baby was born in another.”

Feyre was speechless at that. It was only a story, but she couldn’t imagine how horrible it would have been to lose such a gift because you were born woman… But Rhys continued, and she could hear the smile on his voice when he started speaking again, his mouth close to her cheek:

“The story doesn't end here though.”

“Oh?”

“No. It says that some day, if the Gods see the Illyrian people thrive again with wisdom and respect, they will earn their wings once more. So we have to keep fighting for the rights of our women, and rise enough to be worthy of the Gods’ gift, and some day, our sons and daughters will roam the skies again.”

She considered. “It's beautiful.”

 

***

 

She didn't remember falling asleep, but when she woke up in the middle of the night, she was lying on the mattress, wrapped in a sleeping bag, Rhys asleep snuggled against her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright people, this is the second to last chapter so, I hope you enjoy it!!!

They woke up at dawn, but waited for hours inside the tent before getting up. Feyre wasn't ready to face her family once more, and if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to make sure Tamlin would be gone when she came back. The evening by the fire with Rhys had been helpful, as well as the fact that they were outside, under the clear night sky that made her feel free. She was feeling less empty this morning, less desperate. But that didn't mean she wanted to endure  _ his _ presence at the breakfast table. So after waking up, they had waited, they had talked, snuggled up against each other inside the tent, the unspoken agreement between them that they wouldn't leave until she was ready.

The moment had come on the form of a text from Elain:  _ “He's gone now, all of Nolan’s partners are gone. We’ll finally have some time just us. Are you coming back?” _ She’d felt some of the weight leave her stomach, and had nodded at Rhys. They'd gotten out of the tent and, under the chill december sun, he'd taught her how to fold a tent properly.

They were in front of the house's door now, and Feyre felt her determination falter a bit at the memory of her behavior. Her mother was sure to be angry at her after the fit she’d thrown at seeing her ex. She remembered clearly how Elain had been mortified when she’d walked out of the house in tears, Rhysand right behind her.

“Feyre, it’s going to be fine,” Rhys whispered behind her, a hand resting gently in the small of her back.

“I feel ridiculous,” she admitted, folding her hands into fists to keep from knocking on the door right away. “We shouldn’t have left like this, it was rude to my sister. It’s her birthday and I leave a minute after I get here.”

“You don’t have to feel ridiculous. You did what you had to do to feel better, and I’m sure your sister will understand.”

“My mother won’t though.”

“Then don’t listen to her. It was her mistake in the first place, she should be the one feeling bad and apologizing to you.”

Feyre opened her mouth, but before she could answer, the door swung open to reveal Elain, still in a nightgown. She smiled at the sight of Feyre and hugged her, dragging her inside.

“Oh Feyre, here you are! I thought I’d heard voices outside and was hoping it would be you. Come on, we’re having breakfast in ten minutes with Graysen, his parents, Nesta and Mom. You bedroom is the third one on the left if you want to go get cleaned up before joining us.”

Her tone was… cheerful, extremely so, enough for Feyre to know that her sister was nervous. Feyre couldn’t blame her, really. Elain had always been the more welcoming out of the three of them, always prompt to please people and trying to fit in. So having her younger sister storm out of the house in front of her future parents-in-law must have been nightmarish for her.

“Sure,” she simply replied before heading for the stairs, hoping to regain a semblance of composure before having to face a crowd of people judging her.

 

***

 

The shower hadn’t worked. Almost an hour after Rhys and her had entered the house, they were still seated at the breakfast table with Graysen’s parents, probably some of the most awful people she had encountered in a long time. Elain had traded the pink nightgown for a woolen cobalt jumper and a pair of jeans, and Nesta, seating next to her, was wearing a long red dress and clenched tighter on her fork every time their mother opened her mouth. Feyre thought her sister might actually break it when their mother once more started talking about how fulfilling it was to see one of her daughters getting married to such a wonderful family.

“I mean it, Nolan, I was so glad when I learned about Elain’s engagement with your son. And now that I’ve met him? I’m even more excited that they’re getting married. Our two families will clearly get along very well, I’m sure.”

Feyre kept on eating her eggs without talking, not wanting to bring any more attention to herself and embarrass Elain in front of them. But Nesta clearly didn’t have a problem with it, because she set down her fork and looked at their mother with death in her eyes.

“Since when are you so concerned about our love lives?” Even if she’d said it loud enough for everyone to hear it, the question was clearly not meant to receive an answer.  Everyone around the table stopped eating for a second, but Feyre knew her sister. If she had something to say, she wouldn’t care that the whole world was watching. She couldn’t stand Graysen’s family, and she wouldn’t mind having a family quarrel in front of them.

“Nesta, I’ve always cared about you three, deeply. I know that the last few years without me were rough, but as I already explained to you and your sisters, I did my best to get out of a difficult situation I wasn’t able to handle on my own and…”

“Oh yes, your ‘health problems,’ I know. They’re the reason you left us alone for more than ten years and only came back when all was better in our lives.” The silence was so heavy in the room that Feyre wondered if Graysen’s parents actually knew about their family’s history. But Nesta wasn’t done.

“But I wasn’t referring to your years away. I’m talking about how you are behaving those last few months. Nagging me every day about finding someone, inviting Feyre’s ex-boyfriend to a family gathering, and now, spending this entire breakfast repeating incessantly how Elain’s marriage is going to be amazing? Stop trying so hard, mom, none of us are buying it.”

And without letting her mother a chance to answer, she got up and walked out of the room, her heels slamming with each of her steps. Feyre couldn't take her eyes off the door where her sister had disappeared for a moment, and when she turned back to the table, Elain’s face was as red as it could be, Graysen’s parents had their eyes buried in their bowls, and Rhys was staring at her mother from behind his cup of tea. Finally, Elain spoke, her voice a mere whisper.

“I'm… I'm so sorry about Nesta. She's had a hard year and…”

“It's quite alright my dear,” Nolan interrupted. Although Elain seemed glad to have been stopped, Feyre couldn't repress the feeling of unease at the sight of this man not letting her talk. He was so imposing, she didn't want to think about her sister spending her life in his shadow. “Now, what is the program today for you ladies?”

“Oh we’ll simply have a walk around the island, enjoy this beautiful weather,” her mother answered, clearly relieved at the change of subject. “I thought you would join us, Nolan?”

“And waste a perfectly good day? No, I'll stay here and work with my son. And what about you,” he turned to Rhys, “Rhysand, is it? Mark told me who your father is, you could join us.”

“Yes, my name is Rhysand,” he answered, and although his voice was calm and pleasant, it didn't have any of its usually kindness and warmth, and Feyre had a vivid image of his father talking to her at his birthday party, not unpleasant but somewhat still cold and not really welcoming. She had never heard him talk that way, and wondered if this was how he sounded when he was working. “And thank you for you proposal, but I would rather spend the weekend with my girlfriend and her sisters, seeing as it is, after all, Elain’s birthday.” The smile he gave Elain was much warmer, much more like the smile she was used to, and she watched her sister relax and smile back at him.

“I thought you would have had enough of outdoor activities with your evening in the wild last night,” Nolan answered with what was clearly meant to be a joke, and her mother let out a chuckle. Feyre felt her cheeks starting to burn. She knew that it was bound to come up at some point, but she was still not ready for it. Rhys didn’t laugh though, he turned towards Nolan and said:

“It’s not funny. But now that you mention it, I did have a great night, thank you for your camping gear. And I’ll enjoy spending the whole weekend outside. I spend enough of my life in an office during the week, why force myself into this inconvenience on my time-off?”

His tone was so pleasant, yet his words so cold, Feyre saw the contained rage in Nolan’s eyes, as if he didn’t know wether or not to be insulted be Rhys’ last remark. She squeezed his knee under the table as a silent ‘thank you’, and continued her breakfast.

 

***

 

Feyre walked through the forest, enjoying the sun on her skin, and the sight in front of her. Rhys and Elain were walking together a few meters in front of her, and seemed absorbed in their conversation about Rhys’ childhood in the mountains. They laughed a lot, and she felt her heart swell up at the sight of him getting along so well with her family.

Well, part of her family anyway, since her mother was still very angry at her for storming off the night before, and had opted for a quick walk near the beach with Graysen’s mother instead of the hike in the forest with them. She had seemed more interested in Rhys than before though, and Feyre recalled the moment after breakfast when her mother had approached her and asked her what Nolan had meant when he said he wanted to work with Rhys. But even knowing that he was from a wealthy respectable family couldn’t make up for embarrassing her, and she’d made that really clear by not coming with them. Not that Feyre minded, she thought, smiling at seeing Elain point a plant to Rhys and starting to explain how difficult this one was to grow indoors. She kept reliving the last few encounters with her mother, how mean she had been, how she had not cared about Feyre’s problems. Maybe it didn’t matter that she didn’t seem to like Rhys, and maybe it wasn’t so bad that Nesta was always angry at her. Walking in the forest, with Nesta beside her, and Rhys and Elain in front of them, Feyre thought that maybe, she didn’t need her mother. After all, she’d survived ten years without her, she’d helped her sisters go to college, and she had managed to build a life for herself, all without her mother. So even if she was back in their lives, Feyre didn’t have to let her in more than the bare minimum of seeing her once a year for holidays. She was strong, and she liked her life right now, an she wanted to grow closer with her sisters again. Maybe her mother’s toxic attitude didn’t have its space in her life, and maybe that was okay. 

She was smiling at her own liberating thoughts when Nest, who had been walking beside her quietly, suddenly started talking, making her startle.

“I’m sorry about what mom did. It was inappropriate to have him here. I knew she was planning something, but I never thought she’d invite him here.”

“It’s fine, Nesta, you didn’t know.”

“If I can ask, why did you leave last night? I mean, I get that you were mad at mom, and mad at him, but what made you feel so awful that you prefered sleeping outside rather than share a roof with him?”

She knew this would come. She knew after the event of the previous evening, her sisters would have questions for her. And even with her brand new decision of not letting her mother into her personal life, her words kept ringing in her ears. “You’re exaggerating.” She wasn’t exaggerating, she knew that, she knew that everything he’d done to her had been real and that she deserved to be heard. That didn’t make it any easier to start talking to Nesta. But she had to believe that her sister had more love for her than her mother.

“The night I left Tamlin, he proposed to me.”

 

***

 

“I am going to claw his eyes out.”

She couldn’t restrain the nervous laugh that came out of her lips. Nesta’s reaction to her story could not have been farther away from how her mother had reacted.

“I’m not joking, Feyre. The next time I see him, I will hit him so hard his face will never look the same again. How dare he mistreat you for months and then come to our family weekend claiming it’s been a huge misunderstanding between you two and he just wants a chance to talk to you?”

“He… He said that?”

“Oh yes. And I knew you’d be pissed because you were coming with your boyfriend, but I had no idea what he’d done to you. Feyre, why didn’t you say something to us when it happened? I would have been there in a second if I’d known.”

“Well, because, Nesta,” how did you tell your sister you would have never thought of her as willing to support you? How did you tell her that your whole family history indicated you were alone with your problems? “I just thought that with all Tamlin did for our family, you wouldn’t stand with me.”

Nesta stopped walking and grabbed her arm to make her look at her.

“Feyre. I know that me and Elain haven’t been the most supportive we could have during all those years. And I know everything you did for us, and everything you sacrificed to get us both where we are now. Don’t think we forgot that. I… all those years ago, when mom left us and dad wouldn’t do anything about it, I know that I should have stepped up and do what you did for us. But… I was so angry, Feyre, at mom for leaving us, at dad for doing nothing to get her back, than for doing nothing to keep us from starving. I wanted him to step up and protect our family. But he never did, and you were always the strongest of us, you kept us all together all those years and now… Feyre I swear to the Gods that I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You can come to me anytime. I didn’t prove it before, but I’ll prove it to you, now.”

Feyre swallowed hard, not knowing what to say at her sister’s unexpected declaration. She’d never thought Nesta would be the one to tell her this kind of things. Nesta had always been more protective of Elain, ready to defend her from anything. Feyre had always been… alone. And now, to hear her sister say all those things to her… She didn’t want to start crying, so she extended her hand to take Nesta’s in hers, whispered a “thank you” and resumed walking, feeling better than ever since that night Tamlin had thrown her against a glass cabinet.

 

***

 

The day had been really long. Her heart-to-heart with Nesta had led to a second talk with Elain once they were back at the house. She had felt bad at first, to have brought all this up on the day of Elain’s birthday, but her sisters had made it easier somehow, joking around and talking about mundane things while the three of them were hanging out in Elain’s bedroom. The birthday dinner with Graysen’s family had been easier than breakfast, and Rhys and Elain’s newfound mutual fondness for each other had them leading a lively debate on one side of the table. Everyone had headed upstairs sometime after dinner, and Rhys and her were now settling for the night.

“You know what,” Rhys said as he came out of the bathroom, “I’m starting to wonder if I didn’t prefer our night under the stars, Darling.”

She only laughed and shook her head at that, and he climbed beside her on top of the covers to take her in his arms.

“No, I’m serious,” and he started a trail of kisses on her neck. “The noise of the fire, the light of the moon, having to snuggle against you to stay warm, I enjoyed it way too much, Feyre. I think I want to take you camping more often.”

He kissed her once on the lips and softened his hug on her.

“Well, maybe next time we could have two sleeping bags and you wouldn’t be freezing.”

“Oh but what’s the fun in having two sleeping bags when I can cuddle with you instead?”

It was so easy, flirting with him, and smiling at his remarks, and enjoying the warmth of his arms around her. Feyre suddenly felt overwhelmed by all this joy he was able to bring up in her, and she had to take a deep breath to make sure her heart was still beating at its normal speed. He kissed her once more and whispered in her ear:

“I was thinking of going downstairs to make myself a cup of tea, do you want one?”

“Yes, sure. Thank you.”

He got up and left the room, and Feyre started to get ready for bed, taking a shower, brushing her hair and teeth, and putting on a nightgown to go to bed. But when she came out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later, Rhys wasn’t back yet. Intrigued, she opened the door of the bedroom, and heard voices coming out of the kitchen downstairs. He had probably encountered someone in the kitchen and started talking. She was about to close the door again when she realized that the second voice was her mother’s.

It took her a few seconds to wonder if she was better off staying in the room, and then she was coming down the stairs as quietly as possible, curious as to what her boyfriend might be saying to her mother so late at night. The more she approached, and the more the voices seemed tensed. She stopped outside the door and listened.

“... I mean, I obviously didn’t know she would bring you, or I would have acted differently.”

“With all due respect, Mrs Archeron, even if Feyre had been single and coming alone, inviting your daughter’s abuser to a family dinner was not a smart move.”

“Don’t you think calling him an abuser is a bit of an exaggeration? There was one incident between them.”

“One  _ incident _ ? You call your daughter being physically assaulted an  _ incident _ ?!”

“I admit he pushed her around that day, but…”

“‘Pushed her around’, huh. Do you know your daughter had bruises on her wrists for two weeks afterwards? Do you know she still wakes up at night crying because she has nightmares about the glass shattering against her back?”

“I…”

“And maybe it was ‘only’ one incident, as you say. But physical violence is  _ nothing  _ compared to what he did to her before that. She was unhappy for months before she found the courage to leave him. Do you know that she’s afraid to lock her front door because it reminds her of all the times he wouldn’t let her go outside? Do you know  that she feels like her work is worthless because he wanted her to quit her job, telling her it was a useless ‘hobby’? Do you know that your daughter stopped  _ painting  _ because of him? Your daughter, the one that loved her brushes and canvas since she was two years old, she hasn’t painted in nearly a year.”

“Rhysand, I…”

“Mrs Archeron, I am in love with your daughter. I love her. And I haven’t told her yet. And do you know why? Because I don’t want her to feel like she owes me anything, I don’t want her feeling like she’s drowning again. So I’m going to make her a cup of tea, and I’m going to get up to our bedroom, and hold her in my arms, and hope that tonight, I might see her fall asleep without tears in her eyes.”

It was too much. She had difficulty breathing, processing everything she’d heard him say. She couldn’t hear any more of it. Quietly, tears running down her face, Feyre climbed back up the stairs and closed the bedroom door behind her.

  
  


***

 

Rhysand left the kitchen with the two mugs in his hand, his heart still raw at the discussion with Feyre’s mother. He hadn’t planned to be this honest with her, and when she’d entered the kitchen, the discussion had been friendly enough, if not very warm. But then, he didn’t really know how, they had ended up talking about Tamlin, and what Feyre was going through, and… and his feelings for her. Gods, he’d told her mother that he  _ loved her _ , when he hadn’t even really admitted it to himself yet.

But there was nothing he could do about it now, he thought as he exhaled one last time before opening the door to the bedroom.

“Here’s one cinnamon tea for you. I added lemon, I hope it’s...” he stopped dead at the sight of her. She was seated on the bed, clenching her knees between her arms, sobbing. “Feyre, what’s going on?”

He left the mugs on the floor beside the bed, and climbed up to sit beside her. She’d been fine when he’d left her, nearly half an hour before. He wondered what had happened in the meantime to get her so worked up.

“Darling, do you want to talk about it?”

“I… I was wondering what was taking you so long so I… I went downstairs.”

Oh no. She’d heard what he’d said, and now she was certainly angry at him for not acting properly with her mother.

“Feyre I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out at your mom, it’s just that I’ve been holding back since yesterday and I just.. I’m sorry.”

She had managed to calm her sobbings slightly, and was now looking at him with red eyes. “What? No, Rhys that’s not what I’m talking about, I don't care about how you talk to her. I heard you tell her about my nightmares, and the door I never lock, and the painting… I had no idea you’d noticed all this.”

“Well, sure.”

“Rhys I... I heard you say that you love me.”

Oh this was so much worse than her being angry at him.

“Feyre, I never intended to tell you that way, I…”

“How long?” Her voice was soft, and seemed to calm down with every second he was panicking.

“I don’t know, a few weeks? I’m sorry, you don’t have to say anything to me, I don’t expect anything, I…” He was cut of by her lips in his mouth, and it took him a few seconds to answer her kiss. She broke away and there were tears in her eyes again, but that time, she was smiling.

“You’re so stupid.”

“What?”

“Rhys, I love you too.”

 

***

 

They didn’t sleep much that night, laughing and kissing and telling each other words of love under the sheets. They spent Sunday morning with her family, then took the ferry back to Springfield. All the while, Rhys couldn’t stop looking at her, at the way the corner of her eyes wrinkled when she laughed, and how her hair framed her face so beautifully. He couldn’t stop thinking of the wonderful words she’d told him, and how sincere they had been.

They went to her apartment that evening, and he spent the night repeating ‘I love you’ again and again against her skin, until they fell asleep together, at peace.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter 25, the last chapter of this fic!! First of all, I’m really sorry about the delay, if you follow me on Tumblr, you might have seen that I had some personal stuff going on that delayed me editing this one. Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy this last chapter!! And we still have the epilogue to look forward to ^^  
> Plus, I’ll make some announcement about future writing on my tumblr in a few days ;)

“So, I heard my cousin is taking you away this weekend?” Morrigan said as she put their drinks on the table and took a seat beside her. Feyre smiled and took a sip before answering.

“Of course  _ you _ would know, even if it’s a surprise and he told me about it only yesterday.”

“Well, obviously,” Mor laughed. “What’s the occasion? Is it because you won’t be together for Christmas and you’re celebrating in advance?”

Feyre sighed. Sure, the Christmas thing seemed credible enough, seeing as she was going to Springfield with her sisters, and he was traveling to Hewn to spend the day with his family. She hadn’t planned on going back to Springfield so soon, but Elain had  _ unexpectedly _ \- well, for their mother anyway - ended her engagement with Graysen, claiming too big differences of opinion, and Nesta had called Feyre and begged her to come home. So now she would be spending the next week there, and Rhys would go with his family. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a few days to themselves first.

She hadn’t wanted to tell Mor about her birthday, but what was the point in trying to hide it, when she was certain Rhys would tell everyone when they came back?

“It’s my birthday on Friday, so we took the afternoon off and we’ll go wherever he's planning to take me.”

“It’s your birthday?! Oh that’s great, we need to celebrate!”

“Oh no. No no no. You are  _ not  _ throwing a party for me, Mor.”

“Oh come on, it could be fun! I'd finally get to meet Alis and Clare and you would get a lot of presents. It's a win-win deal.”

“I don’t care about getting presents, Mor. I don’t like celebrating my birthday, ok?”

“Ugh just be honest and tell me you want to spend the weekend alone having sex with Rhys. No need to lie, everybody loves celebrating birthdays.”

“Please, can we not talk about me having sex with someone who, may I remind you, is your cousin? And no, I don’t like birthdays. But I do want to spend the weekend alone with Rhys, so yeah, I really don’t want a birthday party.”

“Alright, no birthday party. But it’s only because I know where you’re going and I would hate to ruin your first impression of the place by doing something you don’t want.”

“You know where we’re going? Rhys wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh he didn’t tell me either, but I know where he would want to take you for a whole weekend, and trust me, you’ll love it,” Mor finished before drinking half of her cocktail in one go.

Feyre followed, albeit less eager to drink her own cocktail in two gulps, seeing as she didn’t plan to get drunk and wanted to stay reasonable. They had planned on going out together because everytime they had seen each other before, Rhys, or Cassian and Azriel, or the three of them, had been there. And Mor had called her that morning saying it was inacceptable for them to have never spent one evening alone. So here they were now, having cocktails. But that didn’t mean she needed to get drunk on a Tuesday night.

“I was thinking, when are you going back to New York?”

“After New Year. I’m working on the first design sketches right now and we scheduled a week-long encounter around the 10th. Why?”

“Because I was thinking that maybe I could come with you, and we’d go shopping.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I do but I can get Rhys to give me a day off and join you for a long weekend.”

“Well, okay then, if you want to, it’d be fun. But I must warn you, Mor, I don’t have the money to shop in the same places you do.”

“Oh don’t worry, I love New York because it has the best thrift shops! Plus, with your big project starting, soon you’ll be wealthier than me!”

Feyre actually laughed out loud at that. “Oh yes that’s likely. My work as an illustrator will get me more money than one of the biggest shareholders of the Night Court Company.”

“Well, maybe not as much as me per se, that true! But you need to practice for when you marry my cousin and you get to waste away all his money on shoes.”

Feyre felt herself blushing at the idea. “Mor, stop saying things like that.”

“What? That you two will get married?”

“Yes. We’ve been dating for three months, so no, we don’t know about the future, and no, I don’t want you to plan our future for us, okay?”

“Sorry.”

They fell silent, and Feyre started to be afraid that she’d made things awkward between them, but Mor smiled at her and said:

“So, I don’t want to go home alone tonight, let’s find me someone pretty to spend the night with, shall we?”

 

***

 

They’d been driving for a few hours, and were now leaving the main road to follow a track into the forest.

“I’m starting to think you’re going to murder me and leave my body out here.”

Rhys snorted but didn’t take his eyes off the track he was following.

“It seems like you discovered my evil plan, Archeron. I’ve been dating you for three months so that you’d trust me, and now I’m leading you into the woods to kill you and add you to my list of victims.”

“Oh shut up.”

He laughed and moved a hand to hold hers.

“We're just going to a family home. And I don't want to spoil it so I won't say more. We're almost there anyway.”

And indeed, about ten minutes later, they took a sharp turn, and behind the line of trees, a wooden cabin appeared. Except it wasn't a simple cabin. It was much larger, big enough to have two floors, and the deep brown color of the wood contrasted with the light of the large bay window on what seemed to be part of a second floor.

Feyre was still looking at the cabin when Rhys parked at the front, got out and circled the car to open her door. He smiled at her expectantly and she got out, her shoes scratching on the light layer of snow that was covering the ground. They picked up their bags from the trunk and headed to the front door. The inside of the cabin was more than Feyre had expected. They were greeted by an large living room with an adjointed kitchen, separated only by a counter. The living room was furnished with what looked like the most comfortable assortment of couches, armchairs and rugs she'd ever laid eyes on. She was already imagining herself lounging on the largest armchair in front of the fireplace, reading a book and enjoying the warmth of the fire they would light up with the stack of wood beside it.

Rhys got her out of her daydreaming with a soft kiss on the temple, and whispered into her ear:

“Do you want to see the rest of it?”

There were two bedrooms and a bathroom at the end of the corridor, as well as a closet filled with a variety of supplies that showed how many different peoples were using it to store things.

“Does your whole family come here a lot?”

“Yes, it was a wedding present from my grandparents to my parents, and they gave it to me a few years back. So Mor and the guys are used to coming here in the weekends. This weekend though, it's ours alone, Darling. Do you want to see our bedroom?”

“It's not one of these?”

“Oh no, I have much better in store for you,” Rhys answered with an excited grin.

Indeed, she had never seen a lovelier room than the one waiting for them on the mezzanine, behind a clear wooden door. The room displayed the biggest, most welcoming bed of the cabin, and a small fireplace was also in the room. But it wasn't the beige comforter or the exquisite decoration that took Feyre’s breath away, it was the view. The bay window she'd seen from outside took up the entire front side of the room, offering them a magnificent view of the snow-covered trees outside.

“Do you like it?”

She turned back to Rhys and found him leaning on the door frame, staring at her. “I love it. It's beautiful.”

A wide smile spread across his face. “Good. Now come downstairs, birthday girl, I'll make you some dinner.”

 

***

 

The living room was even more comfortable than what he remembered. Or maybe it was the exquisite company that made it better, he thought, looking at his girlfriend beside him. They were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, couches behind them for support as they drank wine and talked.

Rhysand couldn't take his eyes off her, her hair a bit messy from the car ride and her cheeks flushed after the wine. She was beautiful, her smile was beautiful, and each time she stopped laughing, he was left with an aching hole in his soul until she started again. She was beautiful.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, changing the subject radically from the economic situation of Velaris. Feyre gave him a shy smile and he felt his heart shattering then coming back together at this gorgeous sight.

“I love you too.”

“Can I give you your birthday present now?”

“You have a present for me?”

“Of course I do. It's not much, but I'm pretty sure you're going to like it.”

“Modest as always, huh?” She joked while he went into his suitcase to retrieve two packages, and he came back to her.

“Do I open one before the other?”

“They're unrelated, so you can do however you want to.” She smiled at him and reached for the bigger one. “No, open the other one first.”

“Are you kidding, Rhys?! I  _ just _ asked you and you said it didn't matter.”

“It doesn't, I just want you to start with this one.”

“Ugh, you're insufferable.” But she did grab the small package instead. She made quick work of the paper and then she was opening it.

“Oh,” she whispered as she held up the necklace, the white chain linked by three golden stars at the front, “It's beautiful.”

“Do you like it? I had it made with stars because I thought about how much you liked looking at the sky when you were a kid.” It was a stupid reason, really. He should have gone with the other idea, but somehow he kept returning to this one, and -

“I love it, Rhys.” Her voice was still soft and full of emotions. “Would you put it on for me?”

He approached, delicately took the necklace from her hand and secured it around her neck. Then he didn't resist his desire and he trailed kisses on her neck and jawline until he found her mouth. They shared soft kisses for a minute, and then he let go of her.

“You still have another present to open.”

“Right!”

She grabbed the bigger box and unwrapped it, revealing the blue leather cover of the notebook inside. He watched her pick it up and open it, knowing she'd find thick paper inside, apparently perfect for drawing and painting, according to the woman who'd sold it to him. She flipped through the pages, her fingers running on the leather cover absentmindedly.

“I saw it in a shop last week and thought of you immediately. I don't know if it's the right size or if the paper is any good, but I thought -”

Her was cut off by her lips on his. “It's perfect, Rhys. Thank you. Now all I need to do is break it down by drawing pictures of you naked.” He roared with laughter at her kinky suggestion.

“Oh, Darling, I'd be more than happy to pose naked for you,” he said in his most seductive voice, and she laughed too.

They made out for an eternity after that, and he would have been glad to keep up that particular activity for the rest of the evening, but Feyre let go of his lips after a while.

She kept her head close to him, and said: “I also have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It's supposed to be for Christmas, so I wanted to wait until Sunday, but I want you to have it now.”

“Okay.”

She got up from his lap with a smile and he watched her go upstairs, probably to her luggage, and coming back down with a package in hand. Sitting down in front of him, she handed him the present. Rhysand started to unwrap the paper. Seeing the rolled paper, he looked up at Feyre. He found her looking down at the box, fidgeting, twisting her fingers and biting her lip. She was obviously nervous about giving him this gift, so he tried to get the paper out as delicately as possible. Once it was all out, he started to unroll it. 

And nothing could've prepared him for what he found there.

Strikes of midnight blue blended perfectly with pitch black paint to create a somber canvas on which hundreds of stars were lighting up. The mix of colors gave the result such an otherworldly look, he couldn't take his eyes away from it. Finally, he managed to whisper:

“You painted.”

“I did. It’s not any good, really, it’s very simple, but…” He looked up at her and he could have fallen in love with her all over again just at the sight of her blush. “... I thought maybe you’d like it. It’s the position of the stars the night we slept on the tent and you told me the Illyrian legend. I wanted you to have it because…you’re the one who inspired the painting, and I don’t think I would have done it without you. So, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect, Feyre.”

He gently put the painting down on the floor beside him, and moved to capture her lips with his. She had painted again, she had painted for him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	26. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the end of the road… This epilogue is really short and reaaaally cheesy so I hope you’ll enjoy it ^^  
> I’m currently working on a new Feysand fic, the tone is going to be much different (I’m going to talk hard subjects such as domestic abuse, drug use, murder,....)... I’ll share more info on my tumblr if you want to have a look at it.  
> Anyway, thank you everyone for all the amazing comments, they’re all incredible!!! xx

_ Two years later. _

 

“Rhys, are you ready?”

She couldn't believe how long he took on the shower. At the beginning of their relationship, she thought this only happened in his own bathroom, that he was enjoying it because he liked the place so much. But in the two years they'd been together, Feyre had come to learn that he was just as long everywhere, where it be the shower at their townhouse, or the one of hotel rooms just like this one.

_ She _ had been ready for at least twenty minutes, her makeup on, her hair perfectly in place, and her long silver and clear blue gown adjusted. She was fidgeting with the diamond bracelets Rhysand had offered her a month before for Christmas, specifically to go with this dress.  _ You need to look perfect, Darling, this is going to be your night _ , he'd said to her when she’d protested and argued it was too big a gift. So here she now was, in a New York hotel room, wearing a beautiful gown and even more beautiful diamond bracelets, ready to go to the party thrown in honor of the release of John Helvar’s limited edition book, illustrated by Feyre Archeron.

It had all been months and months of work, and she was already working on the second book, but tonight was the official presentation of the project she'd been working on for the past two years. And Rhys was right, she wanted to look perfect for this. She just had to put on her heels, and she'd be ready to go.

“I'm almost done Darling!” her boyfriend answered from the bathroom, and she sighed, because that meant he was probably still washing his hair or something, and wouldn't be out for at least another ten minutes. They still had a half-hour before they absolutely had to leave, but she wanted to have time to spare. She started pacing around the room to try and relax a bit.

Rhysand’s phone rang from his jacket. “Darling, can you get that? It's probably Lyra.”

Feyre went into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve the phone, but her hand came in contact with a small envelope before she found it. A very heavy envelope. The ringing phone forgotten, she took the envelope out and looked inside. What she saw made her block out everything around her. She didn’t hear Rhys yell  _ ‘No hang on, don’t touch my jacket! _ ,’ she didn’t see him come out of the bathroom soaking wet, a towel around his waist, his hair full of shampoo. No, she only saw the ring in the envelope. The beautiful gold and silver ring, flecked with small diamonds on the sides and set with a sapphire. She couldn’t take her eyes off it, of what it meant.

“Feyre?” Rhys murmured.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, coming back to reality.

“Rhys, it’s… it’s a…”

“Oh Gods, Feyre I’m so sorry, you weren’t supposed to see it.”

“But it’s…”

“I didn’t want you to find it like that. I had this whole thing planned for tomorrow night, because I wanted you to be focused on your project tonight and…”

“Rhysand. Stop rambling.”

“... Right.”

“Tell me.”

“Hum, I was going to… propose to you.”

She’d known it was coming, she wasn't a fool. They’d moved in together more than a year ago, they had talked more than once about their future together, they’d joked a few times about their dream honeymoon, and who would give the most horrifying toast if they ever got married - Mor, for sure. But she hadn’t thought he would do it here, in New York, this weekend.

“Oh.”

“It was supposed to be romantic, and a surprise, and I had a whole thing I wanted to say to you, but I blew it like an idiot. And now it’s not going to be a surprise.”

He was dripping on the carpet, and she could see the shampoo slowly running down his shoulders. He seemed so angry with himself, and she just wanted to hug him right now, to tell him how much she loved him, and how much she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

“Do it now.”

“What?”

“Do it now. I’m still surprised,  _ believe  _ me.”

“Feyre, I’m in a towel.”

“So?”

“ _ So _ , I’m not proposing to you in a freaking towel.”

“I think you are,” she couldn’t restrain her mouth from twitching up.

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, before sighing and advancing towards her. He yanked the envelope out of her hand and took out the ring.

“You’re insufferable, Feyre.”

“I know. Now do it.”

“Ok, here goes. Feyre, the last two years with you have been amazing. I can’t begin to thank you enough for everything we’ve done together. I love you, with all my heart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, if you’re kind enough to say yes to me tonight, I promise you that I will spend the rest of my life by your side, making you as happy as you make me everyday.” He paused, looked away from her in what could only be described as embarrassment, and then added: “I’m good at keeping promises, remember?”

Feyre laughed at the last addition. “You’re so cheesy,” she couldn’t help but saying, and was rewarded with a blush spreading on his face.

“Oh come on Feyre, I prepared this for a different setting, it was supposed to be romantic.”

“I’m sorry. You’re very cute.”

“Feyre.”

“What?”

“You… You didn’t answer.”

“Oh.”

“So…?”

“So?”

He knew what she was doing, she knew it. She could see in his eyes how annoyed and amused he was at her attempt to tease him for as long as possible. But he wasn’t having it.

“Feyre, will you marry me?”

“Rhysand, I will marry you.”

The purest feeling of joy invaded her whole body, and she could see the same emotion reflected on his face. He gently grabbed her hand and slid the ring on her finger. They stared at it for a moment, and then Feyre looked up at him. And roared with laughter.

“What?”

“For a second there, I’d forgotten you were covered in shampoo.” She tried to stop, but she couldn’t seem to be able to, and Rhys looked down at himself and joined her fit of laughter. They managed to calm down after a while, and when she looked at him, there was more love in his eyes than ever before.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Rhys, you’re wet and covered in soap, and you are not ruining my dress.”

“I won’t ruin your dress. But I’m going to kiss you right now.”

And so they stood there, him in a towel, her in a gown, kissing, oblivious of the world around them, all their thoughts turned to the ring on her finger, and the promise that went with it, echo of a promise he’d once made to her in a bar, so long ago.


End file.
